


Through the Lens

by Classic_Vision



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Future Fic, Organized Crime, Private Investigators, Romance, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-10-31 05:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classic_Vision/pseuds/Classic_Vision
Summary: I’m the best reporter that no one has ever heard of, and I like to keep it that way. If criminals ever found out how many of their associates I’ve put away, I’d be a target. My work keeps me paid well, and no job paid better than my latest.Expose Spider-Man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something different that came to me in the middle of the night. Not sure if I want to build on it
> 
> MJ's POV

New York City

If you’ve never been here, the first thing you’ll notice are the buildings. Tall buildings that go on for miles and miles. The second thing you’ll notice are the streets, they’re always busy. The streets hold secrets, the buildings host transactions. Everyone in this city has a hustle, some legal, some not. You do what you gotta do to pay the most expensive rent in the country, and a 9-5 shift ain’t gonna do it. It is what it is.

The best place to get a view of the streets was on a rooftop. A lot of New York rooftops are already occupied. Some are for bars, some are for lounging. But if you know where to go, you can have a wide-open rooftop all to yourself. As a photographer, I get my best shots from high up. On rooftops I have the best view of the streets for events, crimes, and even a certain friendly neighborhood celebrity.

The fascination people have with this city are the stories, and the best stories start with a reveled secret. That’s where I come in. Don’t call me a detective, and definitely not a hero. I don’t want the responsibility of either of those. Just call me, observant. I hear things and see things and just so happen to be pretty good with a camera. If a couple bad guys in end up in jail, so be it.

My name is Michelle Jones. I’m the best reporter that no one has ever heard of, and I like to keep it that way. If criminals ever found out how many of their associates I’ve put away, I’d be a target. My work keeps me paid well, and no job pays better than my latest.

Expose Spider-Man.

That’s how I found myself on a rooftop looking across the street into the office of the Daily Bugle gripping my coat closer to my body at the gust of wind. Not most girls idea of an exciting night, even for a Wednesday. But to no surprise, this was the highlight of my week. Afterall, I’m not here for pleasure, I’m here for business.

Most of my clients feel secure enough to meet in an office, but it’s not uncommon to meet in secret. Usually it’s out of fear that their name will get out. This is one of those cases. We only briefly spoke over the phone, so this would be the first time we meet in person. I prefer to avoid the shady jobs like this, but they do tend to pay well.

The sound of footsteps bring me out of my thoughts. I turn around and see him staring me down. Slightly overweight, salt and pepper hair, and stress wrinkles. This man has no room to be judging anybody, but that’s what he seems to be doing already.

“You’re actually on time,” he grunts, eyeing me up and down with disgust written all over his face. “I’m surprised.”

Not sure if that’s a stab at my age, race, or gender, or all of them. But it’s no shock. Here in Queens, J. Jonah Jameson was the locally known asshole.

“Try again. I don’t speak privileged trash.”

He grits his teeth like he wants to say something, but holds back. Smart choice.

“As promised, I brought your compensation.”

That brings a smirk to my face. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

He grunts again, not baring to look at me any longer. I imagine he isn't used to feeling so powerless.

“My associate highly recommends you for jobs like this. So, you got any idea of who this costume freak is, or what?”

Another breeze blew by. I pushs my hair out of my face and exhale briefly. I'm beginning to wonder if any amount of money is worth working for this guy.

“I can’t confirm anything, but I have my suspicions.”

Its not a complete lie. While I don't have anyone in mind, I do have some clues. Spider-Man is most likely mid-20s, male, little on the shorter side, and lives in Queens. Not much, but Jameson doesn't need to know that.

“So what, you got sources or leads?”

“I’m just very observant.”

“That’s it? What kind of crap is that? I’m a busy man and unlike you, I have a life. And I’ve already wasted three minutes if it talking with you.”

He starts to storm off. I should just let him go, but my integrity and pride took a hit.

“Here’s an observation, you’re desperate!”

That stopped him.

“A wealthy man, owner of the Daily Bugle news with photographers on pay roll. And after all these years you’ve finally given up trying to find him yourself and decided to put your ear to the streets and track down an unlicensed specialist with a notorious resume.”

I don’t say anymore, there's no need to. His shoulders drop, the reality of my words sinking in. But before he could respond, his phone starts ringing. Without hesitation, he swoops it out of his pocket and curses when he sees the screen.

“Dammit, Fisk,” he mutters.

 _Fisk_. Where have I heard that name before?

He puts his phone away and turns back to me. “Alright. Deal.”

Good, I was ready the leave the moment he showed up. But there's still one thing bugging me. Something I debated asking ever since I agreed to this job.

“What is your issue with Spider-Man? You’re going through a lot of trouble just to see his face.”

Jameson clinches his fists. He looks up and walks forward. I stand my ground, refusing to be intimidated. But once I see his eyes, I realize he's looking past me. He walks right by me to the edge of the rooftop, staring at his office across the street.

“You know my favorite part of my job? The more money, the less questions.”

Without looking, he tosses back a thick envelope at me. I catch it and brake the seal, opening it to see the cash. To my surprise, it's more than what we agreed on.

After regaining my composure, I stuff the envelope inside my coat and walk off.

“I’ll be in touch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Into the Spider-Verse won damn near every award in the game! I know this is a different movie, but this new Spider-Man era is doing damage out here! Thus, along with some good comments I got on the last chapter, I'm inspired to continue this. Enjoy

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

I adjust the lens on my camera before aiming down from the rooftop back to the streets. The more shots I get now, the more I’ll have to work with later. A job this big can be overwhelming, so it’s best if I break it down.

Spider-Man works throughout New York City but, history shows that he only goes to other parts of the city for larger crimes or supervillains. For smaller incidents like robberies, car accidents, or cats in trees, he works here in Queens. That suggests he lives here.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Next, the news companies in the area all tend to get photos of Spider-Man in action from time to time. Most of the pictures come from the Daily Bugle. Interesting.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Most crimes are done at night, so it makes sense that’s when he tends be sighted the most. However, that suggests that he’s free to have a day job. Which is why I’ve been up here taking pictures. Most people take their lunch breaks during the hours of 11 am and 1 pm.

I zoom in my camera looking at he hundreds of faces going in and out of offices. Anyone of them can be him. It’s a long shot but it’s still better than what I started with a couple days ago. If something pops off and he shows up, I’ll catch him.

I only put my camera down when I feel a buzz in my pocket. I unlock my phone to see the message I’ve been expecting.

**Liz: Sure! Come through.**

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Where are you, Spider-Man?

* * *

The elevator ride in Liz’s apartment is always slow, but it’s worth it once I get to her place on the 18th floor. The higher up, the more luxurious, that’s the general rule. Funny thing about New York City, you can be rich and still not afford to own a home. In fact, I’ve never known anyone who didn’t live in an apartment. But Liz’s penthouse was the closest thing to a real house around here.

“Hey!” she greets me at the door, welcoming me inside. I walk across the polished hardwood floor and flop down on her black leather couch. “So glad it’s the weekend. Drink?”

“Water,” I say, sinking back into the leather.

She walks over to the large kitchen and I take a moment to look around. It always amazes me how nice and spacious it is in here. I turn to my other side and briefly admire the beautiful view she has of the Queensboro Bridge through her glassed-wall. In front of me there’s art work decorating the living room. There’s a tall handmade vase on each corner of the room and some stunning paintings hanging on the wall from Oregon. In the center, complimenting her flat screen TV are shelves of pictures of her family, friends, and colleagues. I’m even in a couple.

Liz and I met back in high school, but weren’t really that close outside of being on the Decathlon Academic team. Poor girl was as clean cut as they come, but her dad wasn’t. He ran an underground crime operation that got busted by Spider-Man. When her dad was sent to prison, Liz’s mom packed them up and she was forced to spend the rest of her Senior year in Oregon. Her mom still lives out there, but Liz didn’t stay long. She came back to the city for college and to no surprise, she got a full ride to NYU. The big surprise was when I enrolled as a freshman, she was assigned to be my mentor. Few years later, she’s got a law degree, her own firm, and a pretty nice crib. Somehow we stayed close throughout this time and the only person I’m willing to call a friend.

“Your text seemed important,” she says, handing me cold bottle while sitting across from me in the matching armchair. “I’m assuming you got a new job?”

“Yeah, it’s a wild one,” I warn.

She immediately sits up in anticipation while I take a big gulp from the bottle. Not wanting to drag it out any longer, I just decided to go ahead and say it.

“Jameson”

She leans forward, raising her eyebrows. “J Jonah Jameson? You’re starting to sink low. What are you working with him for?”

“Same reason as always, money.”

She rolls her eyes and leans back. “Still going with that excuse. Alright, I’ll bite. What’s the job?”

“You know what they say, a picture is worth thousands of dollars.”

She laughs. “That’s not the saying.”

“Is now. Or in this case, a lot more than a thousand.” I pull the yellow envelope from my coat and toss it to her. Her eyes bulge when she sees what’s inside.

“Oh my…MJ, what did you agree to?”

“One picture. Spider-Man unmasked.”

Liz drops the envelope as if it was on fire. All the cash inside briefly forgotten. She stares at me for a moment as if to see if I’m joking, but I’m not.

Since her dad went to prison, Liz wasn’t the biggest fan of Spider-Man. She never slandered his name or anything, she just tended to avoid all conversations about him. I don’t really blame her.

“I didn’t know you knew who Spider-man was.”

“I don’t. I would’ve told you if I knew that. But no way I could turn down this offer.”

She picks the envelope back up and walks over to the large glassed-wall. She glances at the cash again before turning back to me.

“You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Now she knows my real reason for taking this job.

“Of course.”

“Well then,” she tosses me the envelope and starts to walk off to her bed room. “Take the day off. You’re coming out to a club with me tonight.”

“What?” I jump to my feet and groan, following her to her walk-in closet. “Didn’t we just do that like a month ago?”

“Two months. And sis, you need spend your Friday nights doing more than snooping around dark alleys with your camera.”

“Liz, you know I can’t stand those girls you hang with. They’re extra uppity.”

She sorts through different outfits and I swear I can hear her eyes rolling again. “Fine. Just us then.”

“Well, that’s a little more tolerable,” I mutter.

“I heard that. And stop complaining, you owe me.”

Damn, I knew that was coming. After college I decided the office life wasn’t for me. Didn’t take long to realize I could make more money doing my own thing instead of working for a company. However, reporting on criminals and ignoring 401k is enough to make any parent’s nightmare. So as far as my parents knew, I worked for Liz as research assistant.

“Fine. But I ain’t wearing a dress.”

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m wearing a dress.”

And I can’t believe I’m walking outside this late in the cold next to a long line of people reeking of cologne and perfume. The music was knocking against the walls from inside. Still, it wasn’t enough to drown out the traffic noise on the other side of us. The worse part about clubs is waiting to get in. Luckily that wouldn’t be a problem tonight.

“You look pretty, and guys will notice,” Liz says.

I scoff. “Therefore, I’ll have value?”

“No, MJ.” She bumps my shoulder. “Stop with that attitude. Partying relieves stress, thus increases productivity. And if you’re not looking for yourself, at least help me out tonight.”

Poor girl. According to society, a young successful girl can’t be single without being judged. That kind of shit doesn’t bother me, but when you have to go to enough public events and functions like Liz, I can imagine it puts weight on the shoulders.

Liz’s other friends were always setting her up with snobby rich dudes. Fortunately, Liz is only attracted to nice guys. Unfortunately, even nice guys can be on some bull shit.

“Fine,” I sigh, smiling up at my tall friend. “I’ll be cool.”

“Good girl.”

A quick check in with the bouncer, and we’re welcomed into the club. It’s nothing unusual. Liz has had success with putting away criminals. But unlike me, her work is on the record. Therefore, she gets permitted to a lot of local places in Queens.

Walking in clubs always astounds me. On the outside, it was just another dirty building. But on the inside, it’s strobe lights, tall drinks, and expensive clothing. The music pulses in my ears as we make our way to the bar. Liz orders us a couple drinks and I take a moment to scout out the place.

“I gotta admit,” she raises her voice over the music. “I don’t care for his methods, but Fisk has a good eye for this stuff.”

My attention jolts back to her. “Who?”

“Wilson Fisk.” She says like it’s obvious. “The guy who’s been buying up all the property the last two years. He pretty much owns this whole strip. This is just his latest spot.”

That’s where I know that name. Wilson Fisk is always in the news as Queens’ star entrepreneur. The press loves him but he’s been subject to controversy for a fast string of ownership of so many venues. Doesn’t surprise me that him and Jameson are buddies.

“Hey MJ, is that who I think it is?”

I look in the direction of where she’s nodding, and it doesn’t take to long for me to see what she’s referring to. Across the room, there’s a guy getting yelled at by a crowd while he tries to squeeze his way through without dropping his drink. It’s been a long time, but I recognize that face anywhere.

Peter Parker, example of a nice guy who was full of shit.

“Having a flashback?” I ask her.

“No”

But of course she is. How can you forget the worse night of your life? The night your dad goes away to prison and your family is ruined. On top of that, your date ditches you in the middle of the dance floor of the school’s Homecoming.

“Want me to get his attention so we can flip him off?”

Liz laughs, “What’s that gonna solve?”

“Oh, it’ll make you feel better. Trust me, I do it all the time.”

“Well, not tonight.” She pauses to listen to the bartender who whispers something to her and points the back of the room. A couple of guys posted up on the wall smile at her and raise their glasses. “I rather not talk about high school guys. Instead I’m interested in those two who just paid for these drinks.” Liz says, giving them a thank you wave.

“Wow,” I admit. “In record time, I’m impressed.”

“Just give me a minute and we can go over there. I’m gonna run to the restroom.”

“Do we have to do that thing where I go with you? Because I kind of want to take advantage of this free drink.”

She smirks and shakes her head. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll be right back.”

Not my best decision. Club restrooms are trash, but now I’m all alone in this weird place with just my drink to keep me company. The clock is moving slowly.

“Sup?” I hear and turn to the man addressing me.

Tall, fresh fade, and a shirt a size too small. He wanted to show his muscles. This looked to be a club regular.

“You should come chill with us,” he says. “We got the fun table.”

Behind him is a table with a few more guys and a couple of girls, popping bottles and foam spilling out their glasses. A little too much going on over there for me.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

He walks off and I go back to sipping my drink for only a second before the seat next to me gets occupied.

“What’s up?”

This one has slick back hair, strong ass cologne, and a silk button-down shirt.

“Having a good night?”

And touchy. He’s sitting a little too close for comfort with his hand on my back.

“Not really”

He nods over to the dance floor. A group of sloppy guys were dancing with some really trippy girls. That wasn’t just alcohol in their glasses.

“Maybe I can help with that,” he says. I manage this club. We got some free shots for you over there.” He leans in closer to whisper, “And some other stuff.”

“I hope you mean mints. Back off!”

He mutters, “Whatever,” before storming off, embarrassed.

I take a deep breath and try to relax. Then I check the time wondering if it’s really moving as slowly as it feels.

“Excuse me”

Damn did Liz bring me to the thirstiest club in Queens?

I turn, ready to snap until I saw who was there. Short, pale, with a lean build.

“Sorry. Just trying to get to the bar for a drink. I kind of lost my last one.”

He gestured to the stain on his cotton polo. There was a little spilt on his shoe too. This was not his scene.

I step a side for him to order. He looked like he was about to thank me, but his face went to a puzzled expression until he made a connection.

“Wait, I think I know you…Michelle!”

I stir the straw around my drink, remembering what I told Liz when we saw him earlier. But I have to admit, I’m flattered he remembers me after all this time.

“Yeah from high school. Hi, Peter.”

“Wow! MJ, it’s Peter from high school!

“Yeah, I just said that.”

“Right. Uh, hi!”

Did he seriously just wave?

“You look great. I don’t remember you being much of a dress wearer.”

“Ugh, it’s my friend’s fault. Li- she dragged me out here.”

Maybe it’s not the best idea to bring up Liz’s name.

Peter chuckles. “I’m in the same situation. I like the dress though. It uh, goes with your eyes.”

I stop stirring. Not sure what’s happening, but I start speaking before I could stop myself. “Thanks. You grew up.”

In high school he was in shape, but he’s gained more tone since then. He must not get a lot of compliments on it because he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Can I get you a drink? I see you got one there. Want another one, maybe a different flavor?”

Is it wrong that I’m enjoying watching him squirm? A part of me wants to keep it going, but I decide to let him off the hook. I shouldn’t be talking to him anyway.

“I’ll just stick with this one, Peter.”

“Great! Bartender, sir. I’ll have what she’s having.”

“Enjoy it. I gotta go.”

I walk off toward the restroom, leaving him behind baffled.

“Okay, I’ll let you know how this is!” he yells after me. I bite my lip to tame my smile while walking though the club.

In the distance I finally see Liz come out of the restroom, but she looks frantic. I see her and a couple more girls yelling for help. A crowd forms around them and I rush over.

Before I could get through the crowd, I feel myself being pulled back. Security guards enter the scene, the music cuts off and the regular lights come on. I jump to look over the crowd and I see a girl laying on the ground passed out. Suddenly, there’s a guy trying to break through the crowd and security jumps on him. The guy resists arrest and a fight breaks out.

Now I can’t see what’s happening. The entire club is running wild to the exit and I’m being forced back with them. Before I know it, I’m outside the club and cops have arrived blocking the door.

“But my friends are in there!” I shout.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m on it!” A rush of red and blue brushes by me and jumps over the cops to leap inside the club.

It was him. I was really him. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him up close, but that was Spider-Man!

A couple of minutes go by before the cops step away from the door and a few people run out. That’s when I see her. I wave and jump for her attention.

“Liz!” she looks over and runs to me. We embrace each other and I ask if she’s okay. She wasn’t hurt at all, just a little shaken up.

“What happened in there?”

“I don’t know. A girl passed out and some of us where trying to wake her up. Then everything just went crazy!”

I look back to the club. It was closed off and no one else had come out. I scan the crowd to find his face, but it’s nowhere in sight.

“MJ, let’s get out of here. What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. Come on.” I grab her hand we run off the end of the street. Liz hails a cab and before I get in, I take once last look at fallout from the club.

Where are you, Peter Parker?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, review, prediction, or suggestion. I like em all! I wanna hear what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew!
> 
> This one took some work. I wanted to have this up a lot earlier but it took me a while to get this chapter to convey the message I wanted. I'm going to try for quicker updates going forward. 
> 
> Thanks for all the feedback last chapter, they were great! Hope you enjoy.

Corporate America is trash.

Every once in a while, Liz will bug me about getting a real job. Sometimes I wonder myself if that would be best. But then I walk into her office building and it reminds me every time why I don’t do this. As I stride through the lobby, all I see are fake smiles with handshakes, and hidden affairs returning from lunch. It’s nothing unique to any other office, it’s part of the corporate culture. Despite what the government tells you, the most powerful weapon in the world isn’t guns or bombs, it’s money. People will pretend to be whoever they have to be in order to possess that power. Most business isn’t even done on the record, just the appearance is. The real business is done off the record. That’s the difference between me and them. I’m not putting on any façade, my entire business is off the record.

I sigh as the elevator door closes, knowing that there’s another 20 floors of what I just saw. Luckily, I only have to go to the 5th floor. To my right is an older man swiping the hell out of his phone, probably scrolling through emails and meetings. To my left is a woman checking her watch for the second time in the last 30 seconds, tapping her heel on the ground franticly. When we reach the 5th floor I can’t stand the sound for another second and step out of the elevator before the doors fully open.

Liz’s law firm is one of the rare exceptions I’ve found in this world. I make my way through the open floor and try to keep to myself, yet my observant eyes always tend to wonder. Liz is a good judgement of character, for the most part. She’s put together a good staff that aren’t a bunch of jerks. But in this world, you should always assume there’s more to people than meets the eye. Nearly hidden in the walls of the cubicles, there’s a small group gossiping about their co-workers. Another row down, there’s a younger employee whispering into his phone and looking out to make sure no one hears him trying to get another job. This is a world I was nearly apart of, back in college. I avoided it then and still do now. I don’t belong here.

“Hi Ms. Jones! How are you?” The overjoyed secretary greets me. “I didn’t see you listed for an appointment.”

“Do we really have to do this every time?” I ask, because it really does get tiring.

She keeps her smile plastered on her face and stands to open Liz’s office behind her. “I’ll see if she has a moment.”

I hate these formalities, they get so pointless after a while. But office workers are trained to keep the same habits.

“She’s ready for you, Ms. Jones,” she says and I move past her giving a quick thanks.

Liz is sitting at her desk, documents piled up next to her awards she’s gotten the past couple years. She’s in the middle of reading her computer screen when I enter. “Can you at least say hello to my staff?”

“I prefer to avoid water cooler conversation.” I shut the door behind me and walk over to her desk. She spins in her chair away from her screen to face me.

“You don’t have to keep checking on me. I told you I’m fine.”

She’s referring to what happened at the club over the weekend. A girl passed out right in front of her and then the whole place goes wild. It can be a lot for a person to take in, so sue me if I’m a little protective. She’s the only friend I’ve got.

“Any updates on the victim?” I ask.

“I followed up on the report. She admitted to using drugs and overdosed. What’s surprising is she said she bought it off some guy on the corner of the street and no relation to the club at all. That doesn’t add up with those guys that got busted afterwards with possession.”

“She’s lying,” I state confidently. “Girls like her don’t buy off the corner, not when going to a club that fancy. The manager was shady and from what I saw, plenty of people were buzzed in there. She definitely got it from inside and is covering up for them. Question is, why?”

Liz leans back in her chair, crossing her arms in thought. “It is a Fisk owned venue. There’s a lot of rumors out there about him since he’s had some past associations with criminals. But his record is squeaky clean. I’ve even looked into it myself.”

“Keep looking. I don’t trust anyone in Corporate America with a record that clean.”

“Hey!”

I smirk at her reaction. “You watched your share of bootlegs in college.”

She swats my shoulder over the desk tries to hold back a laugh. “You were the one streaming!”

I shrug my shoulders, knowing I won. “A crime’s a crime.”

“ANYWAY,” she rolls her eyes. “How’s your job going?”

“That reminds me, I need your help. I need to find Peter Parker.”

“Peter? Why?”

The memory flashes in my mind. Peter showing up in the club, then disappearing when the chaos breaks out, then Spider-Man shows up to save the day. Coincidence or not, it reminded me that Peter had some connections back in the day.

“He came by to talk to me at the club. I didn’t think about it till afterwards but he used to have that weird internship with Tony Stark.”

“You think he still keeps in touch with them? The Avengers haven’t been seen together since that fight in Wakanda with that big gray dude back when we were in high school.”

I shrug again. “Doesn’t mean they don’t have corporate cocktails or lunches your always telling me to do.”

She gives me a stern look and sits up straight. “It’s called networking, and you can really increase collaboration with a legit ca-”

“ANYWAY,” I cut her off, not in the mood for one of her lectures. I have business to get to. “Your still up on the latest social media stuff right? You wouldn’t happen to have him added from the high school days, would you?”

She drops her arms on the desk with a pout. “You still don’t have any profiles? What are you going to do when your reunion comes up?”

“Not go,” I say simply. But mentally, I brace myself for another lecture.

“Ugh.  Sis, you’re going to turn my hair gray.”

I dodge a bullet there. Instead of scolding me, she turns to her computer and starts typing and clicking. I stand to move behind her desk and look at the screen as she scrolls through her friends list.

“Okay, I don’t have Peter, but I’m sure we can find someone from Mid-Town who does.”

Some familiar faces display on the monitor, some I remember, some I don’t. But one face stood out.

“Ned Leeds,” I point at the screen. “That was his guy in high school. Let’s start there.”

Liz pulls up his profile and scrolls through the timeline, but there isn’t much on there.

“Hmm. Doesn’t look like he’s been active in a quite a while, years even…Wait! Here he is, Peter Parker is listed as a friend. Wow, nothing recent here either. His last post was around the same time as Ned’s.”

Could be a coincidence, but I doubt it. Wouldn’t surprise me if best friends agreed that something was getting old and decided to quit it. However, it would suggest that they’re still tight.

“Check his pics. Anything related to the Avengers after high school would be what we’re looking for.”

Liz complies, but shakes her head at the results in front of her. “Nope nothing about that. Doesn’t look like he was even that active in the first place. These are all tagged from other people.”

“That’s odd. Peter loved taking pictures.”

Liz turns away from the screen and gives me an inquisitive look.

“We took the same photography class senior year,” I explain.

“Sounds like you two have some stuff in common.”

“We don-”

“Hey wait a minute, that’s Betty!” she shouts, pointing to a picture of a blond girl on the screen.

I move closer, squinting my eyes at the picture. She older, but there’s no mistaking that I’m looking at Betty Brant from Decathlon. And she hangs out with Peter after all these years? I wonder if they’re…

“Looks like this picture was taking last year,” Liz says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “The caption reads: _Goodbyes are never fun. We’ll all miss you at the…_ ”

She turns to me, eyes wide, and finishes the sentence.

“Daily Bugle”

Peter was working for Jameson. Interesting.

“Hey Liz, you up for a networking lunch?”

* * *

Only a day later and I’m sacrificing valuable Spider-Man scoping time to dine in a garden restaurant at noon. It’s not like I’m not working though, I’m following a potential lead. Not much to go off on, but Betty might have some information I can use.

“You really come here for meetings?” I ask Liz while looking over the menu. “It’s pricey.”

She laughs. “Not all of them. But it’s nice to get out of the office in the middle of the day. And look at the scenery.”

I have to admit, it’s nice. Green plants everywhere under the sun on a rare warm day this week. Liz wanted to take advantage of the weather and fortunately Betty had the same mindset. Still, all the people in suits at the other tables are distracting me. This is so standard for them and not for me. All of these fake smiles are making me weary.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and see Liz lean to whisper. “You used to be good at this, it’s not so bad. You might even enjoy yourself.”

Sorry sis, but I doubt it.

“Liz!”

A short petite blond girl runs up to our table and jumps into Liz’s arms.

“Betty! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe how long it’s been?”

“I know! I’m so happy to see my two captains!”

I smile and accept her hug and exchange greetings with her. Her hug is warm, and I have to admit it’s not so bad seeing her again. And if she can afford lunch at a place like this, she must be doing well for herself. I’m glad to know that.

We take our seats and I see the restaurant starting to fill up. Now it’s overcrowded with people and they’re all the same, suits and smiles. Not too far from us, I see a woman slip her ring off her finger into her purse while keeping her eyes locked on the man in front of her. A couple of tables away from them I see a group of older men with hair pieces grilling a sweaty college kid all while wearing a smile.

Fake. It’s all fake. I don’t belong in this world. It irritates me whenever I have to step back in it, if even for a second.

“Should we start with some apps?”

“Ooh! I hear they’re known for their flatbread pizzas.”

What the Fu-

“Flatbread?” I snap my attention back to the girls at my table. “That’s not real pizza, it’s a tease, and nobody likes a tease. Why don’t just share a real pie.”

“Oh, don’t temp me, MJ.” Betty rubs her stomach and looks to Liz for sympathy. “I was bad over the weekend. Gotta take it easy on the calories.”

“No problem. How about we all just order for ourselves,” Liz suggests.

“I’m just saying, you’re both in great shape. You put in all those hours at the office, why not reward yourself? I don’t think one lunch will kill you.”

As if on que, a waiter shows up and ask for our orders. Liz looks back and forth between me and Betty before making a decision.

“Caesar Salad,” she blurts out. I glare at her and she throws her hands up in defense. “What? The dressing has a lot of sugar in it.”

“It’s a start,” I mutter.

“I’ll have the House Salad,” Betty orders. And now all eyes are on me. Liz gives a knowing smirk and the obviously bored waiter gives the fakest smile I’ve seen all day.

“Just give me the ceasar.”

About a half-hour later we’re eating our overpriced lettuce and recapping each other’s weekends. The food is so unsatisfying, I can hardly focus on the conversation.

“I can’t believe you guys were at that club,” Betty says. “It was all over the news. Sounds so crazy.”

Liz nods, scooping up some lettuce with her fork. “It was. Apparently, the girl was drug overdosed. The police are still suspicious that the club was distributing.”

Betty shakes her head before leaning back in her seat. “Honestly, can’t say I’m surprised. Fisk territory is always shady ground.”

That got my attention.

“You’re familiar with Fisk?” I ask. She folds her arms and pauses for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to talk about it. Eventually, she complies.

“I went to college out in Hell’s Kitchen, that’s where he got started before Queens. Anyways, I bartended at one of his clubs on the weekends and there were always some suspect selling going on with management and the customers. I only asked about it one time and was told not to worry about it, so I didn’t. Luckily, I got an internship at the Daily Bugle and never looked back.”

Very interesting. I place the story in the back of my mind for now, because her last statement reminded me why I’m here.

“I actually ran into someone at the club that night. Do you remember Peter Parker?”

“Oh really! How is Peter?”

That’s a good question. I didn’t talk to him long, but he definitely made an impression. I look over to see Liz wearing a curious face, but I ignore it for now. After some quick thinking, the word that comes to mind is…

“Goofy”

Betty laughs. “Some things never change. Well, we actually worked together at the Bugle. Peter was great, but I’m surprised he never got fired. He was leaving early and taking extended breaks.”

Liz laughs this time, “Somethings do never change.”

“Yeah, the only reason he was in good graces was because of his Spider-Man photos.”

I keep my composure and finish chewing my salad before responding. My face firm, I simply ask, “Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, Peter got us the best shots in the city. And since we lost him, our sales have dropped. As you can imagine, J Jonah jerk is worse than ever.”

Interesting

“I would assume Peter knows Spider-Man through Tony Stark?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. He always just said Spider-Man just trusted him, and...”

Betty looked around as if people were listening. She leaned in closer to the table to whisper to us.

“And then Jonah had the bright idea to publish a piece about Spider-Man being a murderer. So many of us were against it that Jameson canceled the idea, but Peter still left after that. Said he couldn’t support a man who was willing to tell such lies just to make a sell.”

“Wow, that’s awful,” Liz whispers back.

It is, but still. Resigning from a highly successful company for morale reasons. I’m impressed, Peter. Most don’t have the heart to do it.

“Do you have his number?”

They both look shocked when I ask, but I keep my expression stern. Afterall, it’s just for business.

“Sure,” Betty raises her eyebrows at Liz briefly before pulling out her phone. “Last I heard, he was still single.”

I take her phone and copy the information into mine. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?”

Liz is wearing that curious face again and I give her an assuring nod.

“I’m sure. Now, I gotta get back to work.” I stand up and lay twenty bucks on the table. “This was uh, lovely. We’ll do this again soon.” I shake Betty’s hand and pat Liz on the back before heading out.

* * *

“Peter, I’m standing outside the coffee shop and I can only pretend to look at my phone for so long. Okay? Either show or call.”

I end the voicemail and lean back against the wall of the coffee shop. After lunch I texted Peter if he was free to meet up tonight and he picked the time. On the way over I grabbed a burger to make up for that salad, and even after finishing that I’m still waiting for him to show up. It’s already been 10 minutes and normally I would just leave, but I need to keep this job moving and it’s too risky to talk over the phone. When I decide to give him 2 more minutes, I see him running up to me and stops quickly to catch his breath.

His forehead has a little sweat on it and his hair is parted but not by comb, it looks like he just patted it down with his hands. He offers up a smile.

“Hey MJ, sorry I’m late. I was just uh, busy. With…”

“Did you run all the way here?”

“Yes! I mean no. I mean, I went for a run before I got here. But I didn’t run here specifically. That would be, weird...Hey wanna go inside?”

Deciding the questioning could wait, I lead him inside the shop. We take our seats at a small table by the wall. It’s a pleasant scenery with flowered wallpaper, a little bowl of potpourri in the center, and soothing music throughout the shop. I picked this place because of its seclusion. During the day it draws a nice crowd, but at night it gets pretty quiet, perfect for this conversation. Sometimes I go here to review my photos. But tonight, it’s perfect to avoid interruption of a specific topic.

Peter has that same eager grin he wore at the club, but I’m all business. I open my mouth to speak and immediately get cut off by the young waitress with a coffee pot.

“Would you like a cup?”

“Yes please,” Peter answers. After she fills his mug, she moves to mine before I stop her.

“Water”

She looks surprised but nods and makes her way back to the kitchen. Peter looks just as surprised when she comes back to fill my cup.

“Oh. I thought you said you wanted to get coffee, MJ?”

I shrug my shoulders before taking a sip. “Arbitrary for conversation.”

“Right…Well, I’m glad you called. I haven’t talked to Betty in a while. How is she?”

I put my cup down and straighten my posture. “Good. Says you two worked at the Daily Bugle together.”

Peter’s grin drops and he leans forward to blow the steam off of his coffee. Instantly, I can tell it’s a sensitive subject for him. But how sensitive? How attached is he? He must have some type of contact.

“Yeah we did. She was nice, but that job doesn’t hold the best memories to be honest.” He shoots his gaze up at me with his smile back.

“Was lunch good? Betty was one of the lighter eaters in the office.”

I can’t take my eyes off his smile. It’s different than the others I saw today. There’s simple, goofy, but simple. No intentions behind it. Genuine.

“Still is,” I reply. “Almost made me eat a flatbread.”

“Ugh, my Aunt May eats flatbreads. I try to tell her it’s not pizza.”

It’s like a trigger goes off in my mind, and a suppressed memory is being unleashed. I lean over the table waving my hands for emphasis. “That’s what I said! It’s just a pizza tease.”

“And nobody likes a tease,” he finishes. I can’t help but laugh. Glad to know somebody agrees with me. “Have you ever had Eddie’s Pizza? Best in the city.”

I scoff, “Everyone says their favorite place is the best.”

“Trust me, this is hands down the best. And you know it’s legit because flatbread isn’t even on the menu.”

I laugh again and make a mental note to try to this place out one day.

“How is your aunt, by the way? I have to knock points off for being a flatbread eater, but other than that she seemed cool at the Decathlon tournaments.”

His grin widens, suggesting they’re as close as ever. “She’s great! Still has my Decathlon trophy from sophomore year at her place. She still calls me a little scholar.”

I notice the embarrassment on his face as rubs the back of his neck. For some reason I decide to let it slide, for now.

“That’s nice. I still remember how close we were to winning again senior year. If only w-”

Wait. Why the hell are we talking about this? I’m getting too comfortable.

“Uh, before I forget. The other night at the club, it was a good thing your old pal Spider-Man showed up.”

He nearly chokes on his coffee, a sign of nervousness.

“Yeah, glad he was there. Things were getting pretty messy, so he showed up at the right time. Weird how he does that. But I guess that’s why he’s a superhero.” he chuckles.

“Betty says you got a lot of pics of him for the Bugle. That Stark internship must have really paid off.”

He chuckles again and avoids eye contact. “You remember that? Yeah, it was pretty lucky I got that. Wow, still can’t believe it myself. But now days Tony and I are more like pen pals. I haven’t seen any of them in a long time. Last time was his and Pepper’s wedding. There were so many cameras there, did you see any of the pictures? I’m sure they’re all still online. It was beautif-”

Rambling is another sign of nervousness, and you’re rambling, Peter. True, people tend to get nervous on a date, not that that’s what this is, but it has the atmosphere or whatever. But, considering the topic, it suggests you know more than you’re letting on.

“Hey speaking of pictures, is that a camera bag?” He points to the bag on my waist, I tend to take it everywhere. “You’re still a photographer, just like senior year. Cool.”

He remembers that.

“I got this one last year.” I unzip the bag to show him. He’s grinning again, looking at the camera in awe. “Lightweight and the perfect lens. Sees all.”

Peter finishes his coffee and nods. “I still like to take shots wherever I find time. Something about it I always found relaxing.”

“I know what you mean. This city is so photogenic. I always felt-”

Damn, we’re off topic again. Either he’s intentionally dodging the topic, or I’m seriously unfocused today. Either way, I can’t allow it to happen again.

“The club,” I restate. “I was going to say, I’m surprised they haven’t shut it down. I heard that girl overdosed and Spider-Man rounded up the sellers with the police.”

“Oh, I don’t know. But, it’s probably best not to go back there, MJ. One thing I do know about Spider-Man, as a fan, is he never stops until the job is finished. So I don’t think we should worry about it. Everyone ended up okay, and that’s what matters, right?”

That’s it. Of course, if criminals return to the scene of the crime, so will Spider-Man. And that’s all I need for now.

“It’s getting late.” I stand up and zip my camera back in its bag. “Uh, this was great. We’ll do this again soon.”

I skip the handshake this time, for some reason it feels weird to do with Peter. Instead, I head straight for the door.

“Friday?”

My hand is on the doorknob and I’m almost out, but I’m unsure of what I just heard.

“What?” I ask him.

“Well it’s late and I haven’t had a chance to eat. But I’m assuming you already did since you wanted to do coffee. So, I figured you’d probably be hungry by Friday night. And we can go to Eddies Pizza. I would treat since I hyped it up earlier. That would solve the problem of hunger, and nutrition and all that…so what do you think?”

Shit, he wants a date.

Now what do I do? He could probably provide more information, but this already looks bad enough as it is. Coming here was one thing, but meeting up with him again could be taken the wrong way. Still, he is the biggest lead I have. Best to keep my options open.

“I’ll text you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, review, prediction, or suggestion. I like em all! I wanna hear what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I said quicker updates but, life happened. My bad. I'm still working on it though.
> 
> Enjoy pizza night

12:47pm and still nothing.

I’ve been coming up to this rooftop for a couple weeks now during the same time frame and still no sight of Spider-Man. True, the last reported crime that took place was at that night at the club, so there isn’t much need to come out during the day. But my assumption is that he would need to patrol the city in order to know that it’s safe. Unless, he has some type of entail, which would suggest he has contact with the police. But Spider-Man has never had the best relationship with the police…I’m getting ahead of myself, best to focus on the current objective.

I put my camera away and pull out my phone. After ordering a ride, I scroll through my contacts and dial. It rings three times before I hear Liz’s voice come in.

_“There you are. You know that was rude of you to run off from lunch yesterday.”_

I can hear her typing on her computer in the background. She’s much better at multitasking than I am.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to get a jump on the lead. Was Betty upset?”

_“Not really. She thought it was funny that you’re still ‘same old MJ’.”_

And she still seemed like the same old Betty, always nice to everyone. Also, knowing Liz, she probably covered for me. I could’ve handled that better. “Next time I’ll be better, promise.”

_“Good, you’ll have your chance next weekend. My firm got invited to a March Madness Mixer.”_

I hold back a sigh and shift the phone to my left ear. “You’re expecting me to go?”

“Yup. I invited Betty too. Plus, I think you’ll be particularly interested in this one. It’s hosted by Wilson Fisk.”

Fisk, that is interesting. Something I learned throughout my work is that if the same name keeps coming up, it’s no coincidence. Depending on what I find out this afternoon, Fisk might be the focus of Spider-Man’s attention.

“I’m in.”

Liz doesn’t respond. She keeps typing away, probably reserving our tickets now. But I know by know when something else is on her mind, so I wait. After about 20 seconds I hear her packing up in the background while asking the question I was threading.

_“Did you see Peter?”_

This time I do sigh. “I did. Not much to go off of. But he did inadvertently give me the idea to return to the scene of the crime. I’m about to head to Fisk’s club now.”

_“So, you had a nice time?”_

“Yes, because I got information. That was the point of me-”

_“Oh hey, I gotta go. My client’s here. Call me if you find anything else out.”_

I curse to myself and put my phone away. That’s something I would have to deal with later but for now, I have to focus. I tighten up my coat and make my way down stairs.

* * *

If you find a friend with a car in New York city, keep them. Drop to you knee and purpose to them right then and there. It’s hard to have a car in this city, there’s always traffic. Parking here is like paying off a student loan, it never ends, only increases. This is why most of us get around on public transportation. I’ve been catching buses since I was a kid. I been taking the subway since I was in high school. And thank the lord I grew up in the ride share generation because there’s nothing worse than trying to hail a cab when on a windy day like today. That’s how I found myself currently in a Lyft on my way to the club.

I gaze out the window as we pass building after building. There’s only one person who doesn’t have to deal depend on rides. I wonder, as I often do, what it would be like to swing from the sky and leap rooftop to rooftop. No rules, no formalities, no dependency. I imagine watching him swinging away as if he were right in front of me. The colorful costume doing backflips in the air and landing perfectly as he shoots out his next web. I try to shake my head free of the imagination, only doesn’t disappear. It’s actually him. Spider-Man is right ahead of me.

“STOP THE CAR!”

The driver slams the brakes, jerking the car forward. He starts to yell back at me but I’m already jumping out of the car and sprint to the sidewalk, fumbling my camera. By the time I get it out of my bag I only have time to focus the lens and zoom in for one shot of Spider-Man swinging around the corner.

_Click_

And he’s gone. Too far away for me to chase down on my own. I curse to myself, looking down at my camera. If I didn’t leave my post early, I could’ve gotten some better shots of his destination. But he is here in the business district, as I thought. That’s enough for now.

I’m getting closer, Spider-Man. I can feel it.

* * *

The club looks really different in the day time. Without a crowd of people, velvet ropes, and loud music, one could mistake it for just an old abandoned building. I look in the window to see all of the chairs on top of the tables, no lights, and only one person at the counter. The slick back hair sparks my memory and I walk in. The closer I get, I can smell the ridiculous amount of cologne from a distance which confirms that’s the manger who came up to me the night I was here. He looks up from buffing the counter to see me approaching.

“Hey, we open tomorrow.”

I decide not waste time and jump straight into the topic. “After what happened last week, I’m surprised you’re able to bounce back so quickly.”

He stutters for a moment at my bluntness and goes back to buffing the counter. “It was a misunderstanding. We’ve tightened security to assure you that no more outside trouble will threaten you’re evening.”

I wonder how many times he rehearsed that speech.

“Outside trouble? From what I remember, those guys were in your group.”

He tries to laugh it off, but the nerves are written all over his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now get out, we’re closed.”

“Awfully convenient that the manager of the club doesn’t get busted with the rest of the crew.”

Now he’s looking at me. His eyes narrow at my face as if he’s recognizing it. “I remember you. You’re that chick that was sitting alone last week. What the hell do you want?”

This is where my plan comes into action. I lean forward and lower my voice.

“I want to follow up on what you mentioned last week. Sell me some of the stuff.”

I hate this part of the job, but sometimes it’s necessary. Underground transactions are common out here and rarely I’ll have to speak the right language to get information. With that girl that overdosed and the guys who got arrested, all signs are pointing to Fisk dealing drugs at his clubs. And if that’s the case, Spider-Man will come to the same conclusion.

“You’re crazy. I don’t kn-”

“Come on, man,” I cut him off. I lock eyes with him, trying to be convincing. “It’s the weekend. I need something.”

Though no one else is here, he still looks around out of paranoia. He leans in and whispers, “Look he won’t send me any, alright. Cops are up our ass right now.”

_He_ meaning, Fisk.

“Whatever the cost, I’ll double it,” I say. “Just help me out?”

That does the trick. He nods and relaxes his shoulder. I now have his trust.

“I may have a little left over from our last shipment,” he says. “Come see me tomorrow, and don’t go running your mouth about it.”

I nod. Almost done, now I just need a little more information.

“What exactly are we working with?”

He shakes his head. “New product, doesn’t have a name yet. This is the only spot in Queens, until the other clubs get set up.”

_Other clubs_ meaning, Fisk.

“Cool. I’ll be back.”

Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I’m more interested in getting closer to Fisk at the moment. Liz was right, this guy is moving fast. A drug issue burst out in his first club in Queens and it’s already back up and running. Plus, more clubs on the way. Spider-Man is definitely working on this, but how far is he already?

As I’m walking out, I fire off a quick text message.

**Me: Friday night, Eddie’s. You’re on**

* * *

A couple days later, I’m hoping out of my Lyft ride walking toward the bright yellow Neon sign reading _Pizza Pizza._ I squeeze my black trench coat closer to my body and speed up to avoid the harsh wind.

The second I step inside I instantly feel warmer. To my surprise, Peter’s already here. I wonder how long he’s been waiting, I intentionally ordered my ride so I would be about 10 minutes late because I expecting him to be late. I wonder if he drives, because here he is, standing on his toes from the booth, waving over to me while wearing that super wide grin of his.

I try to quickly pat my hair down from all the wind as I walk over to his booth. He’s wearing a dark gray flannel shirt with dark blue jeans.

“Hi, MJ. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I reply, taking the seat across from him. “This is a cool place.”

There’s a few TVs, but not too many, around the restaurant playing different sports. None of their sounds are on, instead the latest music is playing from the speakers just loud enough to make background noise while everyone talks amongst their group. The place is nearly full and from what I can see, the pizza looks good. I usually get my pizzas delivered. It’s been awhile since I sat down with someone for a fresh pie.

“I love it. We first started coming here in college and I can’t get enough.”

I pick up a menu and start gazing through. “Where did you end up going by the way? I remember you had a few choices.”

“ESU.”

I look up and raise an eyebrow. “Empire State University? That really exists? I thought that was something kids made up to tell their parents.”

Peter laughs. “No, it was just new at the time. It was great for my degree in Biochemistry, and I didn’t have to go to far from Aunt May.”

Biochemistry, makes sense. He was always a science wiz. A memory comes to mind and makes me roll my eyes.

“Hey did you know you’re the reason people hate group projects so much? “Plus, you were like a walking brain so it never helped when you didn’t show up.”

“Hey, I always showed up…just a little while after everyone else did.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “And how the hell did you ace finals junior year?  You barley showed up to class.”

“I had the best study group,” he laughs and rubs the back of his head. “You were always willing to let me use your notes.”

I bite my lip before speaking further and look back at the menu. The prices are a little on the higher side, but still reasonable. I think I’m actually getting excited.

“Where did you go to school?” he asks. “You had a straight 4.0 so I’m sure you had a lot of options.”

He remembers that too. Back in Decathlon, we all were aware of each other’s academic standings but still, it’s kind of him to mention.

“NYU. I studied Criminal Justice.”

Peter’s eyes light up. “That’s great MJ! That helps fight crime from the inside.”

He says it with such admiration. His tone is warm and his eyes so calm. It’s almost as if he’s either impressed or proud of me. Either way, it’s not something I want to address.

“Check out these ingredients,” I say, switching the topic to the menu. “They’re not slacking on any of the essentials.”

“That’s the first thing I noticed too,” he says. “I was uh, in-between jobs last year...”

_In-between_ meaning, he resigned from the Daily Bugle because Jameson was slandering Spider-Man.

“So, I used to deliver pizza for this place called Joe’s,” he continued. “Satisfies the hunger but not the taste buds. That’s when I really started to appreciate Eddie’s. It all starts with the sauce.”

“Yes!” I lean back into the booth, now matching his smile. “The sauce is key due to the quality of ingredients.”

He laughs and leans back as well. “I’m glad to know someone who understands me.”

“It always surprised me that people can live in New York and not have a favorite pizza place.”

“I’m a proud New Yorker, I know my pizza.”

I narrow my eyes, challenging him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

A tall man with an even taller chef’s hat comes up to our booth and greets Peter with a fist bump. He really must be regular here, he even knows the staff well.

“The usual, Peter?” he asks.

“Yep. Thanks, Eddie.”

What

I immediately sit up straight to contest. “Wait Peter. I don’t know…”

He waves me off and gives and assuring nod, as if he read my mind. “Trust me, MJ. You’re gonna love it.”

“You’re in good hands, young lady,” Eddie says. “Me and Peter, we know our stuff.”

He leaves and eyes dart back to Peter.

“What are we about to eat?”

Peter puts his hands up in defense. “Easy, it’s just a large pie. Double Pepperoni.”

“Double?” I raise my eyebrow again and cross my arms. “And here I thought you were an expert, Peter. You’re never supposed to overload the cheese.”

“I’m not, promise,” he laughs. “Eddie has the perfect distribution. His topping to cheese ratio is flawless.”

I restrain myself from continuing on that topic, because topping to cheese ratio sounds brilliant, but it’s about time I get to business.

“Hey, I was thinking about going back to that club.” I see his face turn confused and perhaps concerned? “Not really my thing but, my friend likes it. And it opens back up tomorrow night.”

“I actually wouldn’t do that, MJ.”

That’s what I thought you would say. But let’s see the reason.

“After what happened last week, it just doesn’t seem like a good idea,” he explains. “Plus, I’m sure security will be crazy over there. Probably wouldn’t be any fun.”

A reasonable concern, Peter. No one would fault you for it. But if Spider-Man is there tomorrow, that would suggest he’s patrolling Fisk territory. You haven’t mentioned him, so there’s still no proof you are in contact with him but my suspicions are still there. Plus, there’s a chance you saw through my lie. Clubs are not my thing. In fact, I’m enjoying myself now more than I did last Friday night.

“Order up!” Eddie comes over with a metal pan underneath a beautiful steaming pizza. “One large pie with double pepperoni for Peter and the new comer.”

That was quick. Or was it? The table next to us already has new people. Have we really been sitting here talking for a while? It only feels like a few minutes.

“Looks good, huh,” Peter asks, passing me the spatula.

I nod and gaze over what looks like miles of cheese and pepperoni in front of me. “Perfect distribution.”

After half and hour, nearly all the pizza is gone and I couldn’t be more satisfied. The thickness of the marinara is rich with tomato and garlic exploding with flavor. The provolone cheese taste creamy and delicious on sautéed pepperoni.

“Here,” Peter passes me a basket of what’s left of his barbequed chips he got about 10 minutes ago. “They go well with marinara taste. Try it.”

I comply a snack on the chips after finishing my final slice and lean back deeper into the booth.

“All the wasted years. I’ve been missing out.”

“So, what’s the verdict?” Eddie appeared again with a knowing smirk on his face. I straighten up my posture and pat my mouth with a napkin.

“Eddie, I officially declare you top 3 in pizza.”

Him and Peter share a look before chuckling. “Top 3? What do I gotta do to be number 1?”

“First impressions are big. But I gotta make sure you don’t start slacking off.”

“Meaning, you’ll be back?”

“I will.”

He gives Peter a wink and says, “I like her,” sending Peter into a nervous laugh. “You two have a good evening.”

“Man, it’s a shame we didn’t hang more in high school.” Peter says to me after Eddie leaves.

We really didn’t. I didn’t really hang with anyone, other than practice. It wasn’t until college that I got close with Liz. Then it hits me, the memory of that night. The worse night of my best friend’s life.

“You ditched Liz Allan at the dance.” I blurt out. This doesn’t even have to do with the job, my curiosity has gotten the better of me. “You know, she had a line of guys wanting to go with her.”

Peter looks stunned for a moment at my comment. It was way back in our Sophomore year of high school, I wonder if he even remembers what I’m talking about. His change of expression tells me he does. He looks down at the table and sighs.

“Believe me, I was crazy about her all year. I tore myself up for blowing my chance, so did all the other guys in school. The rest of the year they called me an idiot.”

“You were.” Another comment blurted out. This one almost seemed rude. For all he knows, Liz and I don’t have any contact with each other. But in reality, “She’s my friend.”

His eyes widen. “Wow, MJ, I didn’t even know you guys were so close.” I nod, waiting to hear more. After a minute he continued. “I felt terrible, still kind of do. But I had no idea her dad was the Vulture.”

My eyes shoot up at his. “You were involved?”

He waves his hands in dismiss. “No! Well, not really. I kind of only had a foot in with the Stark Internship at the time.”

Just like I thought, full of shit.

I get up to leave and feel a tug on my arm.

“MJ, you don’t understand.”

“You’re not being real,” I say. “I was hoping Peter Parker had finally grown up by now.”

“You’re right. Just let me explain. Please.”

A part of me wants to leave and be done with it. But I see is eyes, they are sincere. I nod and take me seat again.

He takes a deep breath and slowly starts to explain. “When I had the internship there was some…activity going on around Mid-Town. Tony Stark knew, so he turned me into his contact. I had no idea what was going to happen. But when I found out what was going on that night, I had to report it.”

You’re holding back, Peter. But that’s fine, you don’t owe me details. Besides, I have enough information at the moment. You definitely, knew Spider-Man. And they trusted you back then, that would suggest they trust you now.

“So what do you think?” he asks. “Do I still seem like immature high school Peter?”

Just hearing it sounds wrong. He’s still goofy and a bit of a mystery. But this was a good night, and high school was a long time ago.

“You still a basketball fan?” I ask, surprised I remember that.

“Always.”

I avoid his face for a moment, looking around at people paying their bills and leaving for the night as the restaurant starts to close. “I’m going to this March Madness event next weekend. I may have an extra ticket.”

There’s no response for a moment, so I look back at him. And there it is again. That damn goofy grin.

“I’m in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, review, prediction, or suggestion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> March Madness is long gone, but yall know what it is haha
> 
> This one's got some controversy to it, brace yourself.
> 
> Also, I want to say thanks to the encouragement I got last chapter. I appreciate your patience and hope it's worth the wait.

I read a lot of books. Most people read to escape into a fantasy world and take a break from reality. I read for the opposite reason.

I picked up the hobby in high school. Back then, you would pretty much always see me with a book in my hands. The books we were assigned were dated, bland, and predictable. But one book we were assigned always stuck with me, _The Great Gatsby_. A story about a normal person trying to make sense a weird privileged world. That’s how I feel right now.

Wilson Fisk is currently hosting a March Madness event at local convention center here in Queens. There’s a giant yellow and white lit sign stealing all of the attention on the streets. Parking spaces ran out instantly and the bouncers have a more exclusive list than any club in the area. Which is surprising because inside, there are over a thousand people in attendance. Round white table clothed tables assigned to the wealthiest people in the city. Waiters rush in and out of the kitchen to refill beverages underneath the giant projection screen displaying the basketball game.

Normally, I wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot in this type of party. But thanks to Liz, I’m permitted as a guest tonight, which gives me the opportunity to find out more information for this job. That’s how I found myself here standing next to the cheese platter at the hors d’oeuvres table.

“Well, this certainly an unusual way to watch a basketball game,” Liz says to me, after wrapping up a conversation with one of her staff members.

I scoff, “Uppity to the max. But I gotta give them credit, this queso is to die for.” I scoop another chip into the hot cheese and toss it in my mouth before dusting off my hands.

“You’re killing me,” Liz groans, “How are still eating cheese after a night of pizza?”

I know what she’s doing, and I ignore it. Instead I dart my eyes around the large room for any chance to change the subject. There are several small TV screens spreading across the corners of the building. All of them displaying the order of the top performing basketball brackets. Despite that, and the actual basketball game, most of the people’s attention seemed to be on an enormous man who just entered the room.

“That him?” I ask Liz, referring to the large man. He’s taller than everyone and has a wide, heavyset, yet solid, build. His facial features looked to be around 50s with a pale bald head on top of a three-piece all black suit. A man this famous at a public event, normally there would be some type of security with him, but there was no need. Though people were gathering around to gawk at him, they all still kept a bit of a distance. Because it wasn’t for that malicious grin, this man would be inflicting intimidation with every step.

“Yep,” Liz answered, “Wilson Fisk himself.”

I don’t just read for pleasure, I read for information. The stories I find the most interesting aren’t necessarily the most fun, but they prepare me for moments like this. Because Gatsby himself just walked into the room. And this is when we all start to see society at it’s worse.

“Ms. Allan!”

At the call of her name, Liz takes a deep breath and puts on a smile as Fisk makes his way over to us.

“A pleasure to see you again,” he says, reaching his hand out for her to shake. Liz slowly accepts it and I can see slight distress in her eyes. This may be worse than I thought.

“Impressive turnout, Fisk,” she says politely.

His grin grew and if possible, he stood even taller.

“Call me Wilson. As I said in my email, I like to have a personal relationship with my representatives.”

She removes her hand from his, but doesn’t backdown. “And as I said in my reply, our client list is full. But I appreciate the invite.”

Fisk’s eyes narrow and I’m suddenly aware of the shadow his large frame cast over Liz. He’s clearly not used to being told no. His eyes only widen again when they shift over to me.

“And who are you?”

A number of responses enter my mind, but before I can say any of them, Liz places a hand on my shoulder.

“This is my friend, Michelle. One of my guests for the evening.”

He grins at me hard, staring me down. I’ve never felt so small.

“You work for Liz then?”

I want to leave. His voice is as powerful as his stature, but I can’t back down. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with a powerful figure, but it’s different with him. I can feel the tenseness in the air between his group standing with him. Their faces are inadvertently telling me something. Either they’ve heard about what he can do, or they’ve seen it for themselves. We are in danger.

“I just came for the free food.”

It’s silent for a moment. Everyone’s staring at me as if I said something taboo and I feel a shadow cast over me now. I nearly gulp when I hear Fisk laugh, and it commands the others to all laugh with him.

“Enjoy yourself. Any friend of Ms. Allan is a friend of mine.” He eyes Liz up and down again, but she manages to keep her composure. “Hopefully you can make some money tonight too. Before some of these kids go pro.”

That one comment about the game seemed to spark some personality into is fan group because they all groaned or cursed.

“Those brats should be grateful.” A middle-aged man spoke is ignorance freely as if the world were in agreement with him. Then again, in this _world_ , most probably were. “They’re already getting a free education, what else do they want?”

I scoff and Liz nudges my shoulder. We’re probably outnumbered, but it’s easy argument to win. _Free education_. Until they’re stripped of their scholarship once they get injured and it gets handed to another kid who should be ‘grateful’.

“It’s disgusting they even get to go make millions for playing a stupid game.”

I cross my arms at the judgmental woman in front of me. A quote comes to mind:

_Before you criticize anyone, remember not everyone has had the advantages you’ve had._

 I’m interested to see how far she’s thought this out. “Tell us, how much money do you have on your bracket?”

She smiles and winks at me. “Which one? I’ve got several. My office pool is up to $500. But my mother in law has a bigger pool she runs annually. I believe it’s worth over two grand this year. And of course, Mr. Fisk here is generously hosting the biggest one in New York City.”

Fisk chuckles and strokes his tie. He nods his head in the direction of the game on the large projection screen. “That’s right $1,000,000 even this year. But only if you get it a hundred percent correct. The house always wins, but what fool is gonna turn down an opportunity to make this kind of money?”

“Perhaps we should be grateful.”

The very thought I had got them all to shut up, but I wasn’t even the one who said it. I follow everyone’s gaze to man behind me.

Peter Parker

“Think about it,” he continues, walking up next to me while educating Fisk’s group. “A bunch of young men work tirelessly while all everyone else does is watch to see if they can get rich off of them. Sounds like we’re the spoiled ones.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself. Well, I could have, but not as nicely. Not bad, Peter.

And now Fisk is wearing a scowl, but the intimidation isn’t the same. Peter’s smiling at him politely with as much confidence as if they were the same size. It’s as if I make Peter more nervous than Fisk does. Interesting.

Liz clears her throat, moving the attention her way. “What a great turnout, Fisk. It’s amazing how basketball can unite so many people. Perhaps it’s more than just a game. Excuse us.”

The three of us walked off to the direction of the bar, leaving the rest of them stunned and angry. I wanted to add something myself but, the way that conversation ended was too perfect to tamper with.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I’m jealous you guys can speak corporate. That was some of the best politically correct insults I’ve ever heard.”

They both laugh but it doesn’t last long. When we grab our cocktails, I realize that this is the first time Peter and Liz have seen each other since the day she had to move away. A part of me feels like I should be the mediator since I invited Peter here, but I’m not even sure how to go about it. I’ve never been in this situation before and it’s getting awkward really fast as we stand by the bar in silence.

The silence is broken when Peter starts to clear his throat, “Uh, hi Liz. Thanks for letting me be one of your guests tonight.”

She gives him a polite smile. “Hi Peter. You can thank MJ. It was her idea.”

“Right. I was ju-”

“PETER!”

Before he could even fully turn around, Betty Brant ran up and wrapped him in a big hug.

“Hey Betty,” he laughed, peeling her off him. “Good to see you again. You look great.”

“Thanks! I’m so glad you came tonight. You should have brought Ned.”

“Yeah well, you know Ned. Always working.”

Ned, huh. So, I was right. Him and Peter are still best friends. But, working on a Saturday night? True, a lot of people do it but still, surprising. As smart as Ned was, I would assume he had options. I wonder what kind of work he does.

“Well, you’ll have to give him my number,” Betty says with a wink. “I would love to catch up with him.”

Peter laughs again and nods. “I’ll do that.”

Betty looks at Liz and grins. Liz’s eyes widen and grins back. “Uh, hey guys. I’m gonna go to the ladies room.”

“I’ll go with you,” Betty says quickly and the two of them run off giggling, leaving me and Peter alone.

“That could’ve gone better,” he says, referring to the awkwardness with Liz.

“Don’t worry about it.” I look up at him and suddenly I get a weird feeling in my stomach. Perhaps it’s all the cheese I’ve consumed in the last 48 hours, but it seems to grow as Peter shifts his feet and rubs his arm. “I can’t believe you actually came to this lame party.”

He chuckles, “You’re here.”

“Am I?”

I look around the insanely large room and see all people drinking, eating, and negotiating. Loud cheers and curse words fly out as one of teams on the screen scores. I can already see sweat on foreheads and hands on checkbooks. Another quote comes to mind:

_Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window_

“Yeah, this isn’t really my scene either. But I’m glad I get to see you.”

I look back at him and he’s got that grin again. That weird feeling in my stomach grows more and I sip my drink as if it’ll help.

“I’m glad to see you too,” I admit before I can stop myself. “What do you normally do on Saturday nights?”

He rubs his head and gives a light chuckle. “Actually, a lot of the time I’m uh, working.”

I raise and eyebrow at that. He seems to pick up on what I’m thinking.

“You remember Ned Leeds from school? We both work at this local lab. Some brilliant minds run the place and we believe in making new discoveries. Unfortunately, that means the hours are random.”

A job in Queens that has unusual hours. Interesting.

“I’m in research myself,” I say. “For Liz’s firm I mean. But I like the idea of making new discoveries.”

“Yeah, it’s great. We’re actua-”

“Parker!”

I hate that voice. I only had to hear it up close one time to have it lingering in my brain. And sure enough, marching up to us with the cockiest smirk is J. Jonah Jameson.

Peter’s face drops. He wasn’t lying when he said working at the Bugle held bad memories for him. I don’t blame him. I’m technically working for Jameson now and I can’t stand the guy. I can only imagine having to see him every day in an office.

“Mr. Jameson,” Peter greets respectfully. “How are you?”

Jameson pats on his suit takes a sip of the beer from his tall glass. “Still rich, how are you? Tired of delivering pizzas yet?”

That was a lie, and it was a loud. And he knows it.

Peter forces a smile and reluctantly replies, “You heard about that, huh. Well, I don’t do that anymore.”

“They let you go too? Damn, Parker, your stock’s falling fast!” He shouts. And now people are starting to watch. Jameson continues the show by putting his arm around Peter. “Tell you what, kid. I’ll throw you a bone. Come back, half the pay, same hours. Best you’re gonna get, take it or leave it.”

That’s it, I’ve had enough.

“The story I heard is he let _you_ go, not the other way around. And if you’re so desperate for his services, I doubt that weak ass offer is gonna do it.”

At my outburst, Jameson’s eyes turn red, bulging from anger. Is not just what I said, he’s seeing me for the first time tonight. Unknown to Peter, or anyone, Jameson hired me. There’s not a chance he wants to reveal he hired help to expose Spider-Man. It would hurt his precious status.

“Remember what I told you, Parker.” Jameson dusts off his suit, pretending to ignore my comment. “One way or another, that masked menace freak is going down. If you like scarping together change for some morality crap, then fine. I don’t have that problem. I answer to no one.”

“Jonah!”

And just at the sound of his name, the red is drained from his eyes and sweat instantly starts to form on his head. A large arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close.

“Uh, hey Fisk. I was just catching up with an old employee of mine.”

Fisk chuckles and pulls Jonah closer making him squeal.

“You left him, didn’t you?” Fisk asks Peter. “No surprise there, Jonah’s losing employees faster than subscribers. Let’s just hope his bracket did well this year. Help pay the bills a little longer.”

Loss of employees. Decline in subscribers. Bills. If what Fisk says is true, Jameson is in trouble. And judging by the embarrassment written on his face right now, it suggests that it is true.

Fisk lets go of Jameson who nearly loses balance and almost crashes against the bar.

“Don’t forget, Jonah,” he warns. “We have business to discuss.”

Jameson straightens his collar and clears his throat. “Of course. Just give me a minute to use the restroom and I’ll be right over.”

Fisk brushes off his sleeve and without another word, walks off to greet more guests. Jameson chucks the entire glass of his beer and slams the glass on the counter before marching off in the opposite direction. The aftermath left just Peter and I.

“Nothing like one rich boy to put another in his place,” I say, making Peter chuckle.

“Yeah, good ole Willy.”

This time I laugh. “ _Willy_. That’s funny, Peter.”

“So, maybe we can watch the game now?”

I laugh again. Throughout all of this, it’s hard to remember the reason this event is supposed to exist in the first place.

“That actually sounds good. Liz has a table ov-”

I stop when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Considering what just happened, I have a pretty good idea who it is. I pull it out and unlock the screen.

 **UNKNOWN** **: downstairs**

* * *

Through the huge crowd of people, it was easy to slip away. The noise from the party is drowned out after I close the door and make my way down the stairs. The basement to this building is nothing more than storage space for different functions that get hosted. I step off the staircase and walk over to the furnace where Jameson is smoking a cigar with his back turned.

“Is the job complete?” He says without looking back. His jacket is off and sweat stains are showing through the back of his white shirt. He’s stressed.

“Not yet.”

Jameson takes a long puff from his cigar and raises his voice. “How long?”

“You expect me to sprout wings and fly to keep up with him? This job takes time, you knew that going in.”

The deeper I get in, the more I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. Fisk definitely has something he’s hanging over Jameson’s head. But what’s the connection to Spider-Man?

“You know my policy,” I remind him. I tell everyone I work with at the beginning that it’s cash up front, but refundable if they don’t believe I can do the job. “I haven’t spent a penny.”

“Keep it.”

Just as I thought. He can get mad all he wants but the reality is he needs me. And he doesn’t want to admit that.

“I want to add a deadline.”

Makes sense. Most of clients want a date of completion for the job. But the desperate ones always seem to forget that detail.

“That goes outside the terms of our original agreement. “It’ll cost you a little extra.”

“Double,” he states.

I’m stunned. I wasn’t going charge that much. This is a different level of desperation. Jameson isn’t just planning to expose Spider-Man to the public to increase sales. Something else is going on. Something big.

Jameson turns to me for the first time since I got down here. He takes another long puff from his cigar. The smoke clouds his face for a moment. When it clears, the stress is spelled out in every single wrinkle on his face.

“I want it done one month from today. You’ll get the rest of your compensation when you actually do the job.”

The money’s big, more than I’ve ever made at once. And I have to admit, a part of me wants to know who Spider-Man is. I always have since he showed up in Queens all those years ago. Plus, there’s Liz.

“Alright, deal.”

I shake his hand, but he doesn’t look me in the eye. I don’t know if it’s because of hatred, or shame. Whatever the case, the feeling is mutual. Once the job is done, I’m done with him.

* * *

The second I open the door back upstairs; the entire place is in a loud frenzy. All the TV screens are lighting up with the bracket winners and the main project screen shows the game is over with the champions jumping under confetti.

Half the crowd here cheers and the other half groans. Pay checks are being written to pay off personal bets and I see Fisk approaching the podium next the projection screen to make a speech.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention,” he addresses the crowd. All the cheering subsides and news glasses are being filled as everyone applauds the very presence of Fisk. “Another year of basketball and another great year for me. Which of course means another great year for New York City! Unfortunately, no one got a perfect bracket, but rest assured your participation is going to a good cause. I will be using this money to fund my latest endeavor to help increase tourism and profit in our great city. Thank you all for participating. Toni-”

He stops once he hears the large growing commotion from the crowd. The attention is completely off him because next to him on the projection screen, the championship celebration cuts to a breaking news report. Fisk’s very own club is once again being evacuated by the police, and the club manager is being escorted in spider webs.

Standing at the podium, Fisk is angry and embarrassed. He grunts into the microphone, “Excuse me.” Him and his associates make their way to the exit, but before they can reach it, the doors burst open with flash photography and microphones being shoved into Fisk face.

Just as I thought, Spider-Man returned to the scene of the crime and finished wrapping up the illegal activity in there. Now Fisk is immediately being questioned by the press. Let’s see if he can talk his way out of this one.

“MJ!”

I see Liz and Betty run over to me.

“This is crazy. But it’s about time,” Betty says. “Looks like Spider-Man got the police to finally go after Fisk.

“No.” Liz shakes her head and gestures to the press. “No police are here. He’s just going to be in the news even more than he is now. But at least there’s more suspicion on him now.”

True, it will take more to prove that Fisk is involved with the crime in his club. I wasn’t expecting him to go down easily. I’m more disappointed I didn’t get to see if Peter would be in contact with Spider-Man during all of this.

“Hey, where is Peter?” I ask.

Both girls look at me surprised. “We thought he was with you.”

Just then, I feel my phone buzz. I pull it out and curse at the message.

**Peter: hey MJ sorry I had to run. There was an issue at the lab. Talk tomorrow?”**

I look up and see Fisk waving off the cameras and trying to move pass the press. Over by the stairs, Jameson is watching on while screaming into his cell phone. And back on the main screen, Spider-Man is no where to be found on the crime scene. A quote comes to mind:

_Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope_

Yes, Peter. We will definitely be talking tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the quotes are from The Great Gatsby. At the time I felt (and still do) that March Madness would be something MJ would have a strong opinion on.
> 
> Avengers Endgame is finally here and I can't wait to see it! For the nature of this story, I don't care what happens to the Spidey characters, this is the story I've already developed and I'm sticking to it. Stick with me!
> 
> Drop a comment, review, prediction, or suggestion. I like em all! I wanna hear what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back!
> 
> So with all the news, I want to again state that this story is based post Spider-Man Homecoming. The background I've given in between the years is my own and has no relation with Endgame or Far From Home.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and the great reviews! This will be completed before Far From Home comes out.
> 
> Enjoy

Okay, a lot has happened lately so, it’s best if I take this time to recap.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

J. Jonah Jameson runs the Daily Bugle News, famous for getting the best photos of Spider-Man in action. Jameson hired me to get a photo of Spider-Man unmasked instead of relying on his own staff members. The reason for this is because his top Spider-Man photographer, Peter Parker, resigned from the Bugle last year due to explicit yellow journalism by the company. Since then, the Bugle’s subscribers have declined, thus Jameson’s thirst for my services. This past weekend, he added a deadline of one month.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Wilson Fisk is an entrepreneur buying up property in Queens at fast rates. He has some association with Jameson and is very aware of his struggling business. The two speak often and attend the same functions. History would suggest that Fisk is interested in buying the Bugle from Jameson, probably to control his own promotion. That would also suggest that Jameson is hoping to expose Spider-Man’s identity in order to skyrocket sales and save his business.

Recently, Fisk’s night club in Queens was busted by Spider-Man for selling drugs to customers on two occasions. I was in attendance for the first incident, and so was Peter.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Peter Parker used to intern for The Avengers in high school. I have concluded he still has contact, particularly with Spider-Man.

He currently works in a science lab here in Queens, which is conveniently located in the business district. That brings me to now, staring at the lab through my camera from my lookout rooftop.

Perfect location, perfect connection. My belief is that if I stick around Peter, he’ll lead me to Spider-Man. Which would of course mean, Peter has been hiding this from me. But, that’s okay, he doesn’t owe me anything. Everyone in this city has a secret, but through the lens, I always see the truth.

_Click_

* * *

I step out of my Lyft ride in front of Doctor Connors’ Lab. Over the weekend Peter told me about his job here. A while after leaving the Bugle, he decided to get back to his true passion of science and thanks to friendship with a currently employee, he was able to get in pretty quickly. We agreed to meet up today for me to see it in person.

The building isn’t anything fancy. It’s only half as tall as the ones around it, but it’s centrally located near restaurants and the subway. The bottom floor seems to be nothing more than storage and old equipment. I walk inside the freight elevator and wait to arrive to the lab. For some reason, I feel my heart speed up and my foot starts to tab. I’m not sure what I’ll find out from Peter, I’m not sure how it’ll change whatever our relationship is now, and I’m not sure how I’ll feel about it.

The elevator opens and the first thing I see is Peter with his back turned wearing a long white lab coat. He’s flipping through piles of notes with one hand and scrolling through a tablet screen with the other. He’s so focused that he doesn’t even hear me bump into a cart on my way walking over to him.

I tuck some hair behind my ear and clear my throat. “Last time I saw you conducting an experiment, you and your partner almost set the class on fire.”

Peter looks back and grins. He pulls his googles off his head, messing up his hair, and gives me a quick wave. “Yeah, Flash Thompson was the reason we got to start picking our own partners. Less bickering, less explosions. At least that’s what the teacher said.”

We’re standing pretty close, just us in the room. It’s rare that I’m at a loss for words, so I look around for a distraction. Laying against a wall, a backpack catches my eye. It looks halfway stuffed and covered with a few different stickers. The stickers were all of Spider-Man, science phrases, and Midtown Tech.

“Still repping that good old school spirit,” I point to the backpack.

Peter squints his eyes at the bag, as if he just noticed it for the first time, and bends down to take a closer look at the stickers on the outside.

“Oh, that belongs to Miles. He’s one of our interns here. Only works afternoons so sometimes he’ll bring his homework.”

“A high school intern?”

Peter nods but keeps his eyes on the bag. His smile changes slightly. It’s not much different, but it’s less goofy and seems to hold more pride.

“We got a couple of college interns too. But Miles is really advanced for his age. I’m actually hoping he’ll be my successor one day.”

An advanced high school student with a promising internship far earlier than his peers. Impressive. And it sounds like someone I know.

“You look like you’re at home,” I say honestly, bringing his attention back to me. I cross my arms and lean back against the table he was working on. “Not many people get to actually have a career doing something they enjoy.”

He moves near me and leans back as well, matching my gesture. “It’s great. Honestly, the hardest part is running the place.”

“You’re the boss?”

“Sort of.” He chuckled and rubbed his head. “Dr. Connors had to take, uh, leave of absence. Ned and I were the only ones working here at the time so his wife left us in charge. Ned manages most of the day to day, I just keep track of the projects for the interns.”

Leaving you to have more free time. But what do you do with it? That’s still suspicious but I have to admit, I admire the new career move, post Jameson. That grin says it all.

“Mr. Harrington would be proud.”

The compliment brings a tint of shade on his cheeks, and it doesn’t look half bad on him. I get a strange feeling in my stomach, similar to the one from a few days ago. This time I can’t blame it on food.

“PETER”

I come back to reality and see a man struggling to carry a box full of beakers into the lab.

“Did you just forget about me? The interns aren’t in yet and I have to-” he sits the box down next to the table and we see each other’s face for the first time in years.

The one, the only, Ned Leeds.

“MJ! I can’t believe it. Peter has been talking about you non-sto-”

“Dude!” Peter snaps and Ned tries to recover.

“About the, uh, coincidence. And…hi,” he stutters.

I try to conceal my laugh, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen these dorks in action. “Hi, Ned. Good to see you too.”

He pulls me into a quick hug. I seem to be doing this a lot lately. Except with Peter, and I’m not sure why.

“I can’t believe I missed the mini reunion,” Ned says. “How are Liz and Betty? Did Betty mention me?”

This man really wiggled his eyebrows. The goofiness must be contagious in here.

“She did actually. Peter was supposed to give you her number.”

“Dude!” Ned snaps at Peter this time. Peter just chuckles.

“Sorry, I forgot with, uh, everything that happened that night.”

“Right. The…thing.”

That’s right, Ned could never keep a secret to save his life. Both of them are hesitant to speak on the subject without even being questioned on it. But if that’s the case, then it would suggest that whatever Peter knows, Ned also knows. Interesting.

“Betty actually wanted to look you up. But looks like you stopped using all social media.”

A simple statement that’s only halfway true, but let’s see if they take the bait.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Ned shakes his head. “I still can’t believe we had to stop.”

“Why?”

“Uh, nothing important. They’re just confidential is all.”

“Who?”

“Oh, I mean…”

“The Connors!” Peter interjects, side-eyeing Ned. “Considering the nature of our research, with genetic mutation, they wanted to keep everything on the low from press. That way we’re able to keep up with our work without any interference. So, we agreed to stay off social media.”

A reasonable excuse, but not without flaw. The press wouldn’t have interest employees of Connors when they can go straight to his family for information. And I doubt the public would be interested in hitting you up online to the point of stopping. But I’ll leave it alone, for now.

“Even without profiles you said you still take photos,” I say to Peter. “I bet this place has a good view.”

He gives me that grin of his. “Glad you mentioned it. That’s what I wanted to show you.”

* * *

The rooftop to the lab isn’t the tallest, but the view is nice. We’re up high enough to see less of the business district, but low enough to recognize more faces.

“This is a great location, Peter. You can get to every part of Queens quickly from here.”

He sighs deeply. “Unfortunately we may not be here long. Wilson Fisk likes our location too.”

“Seriously?” I ask half out of curiosity and half out of frustration. Who does this guy think he is? “You’re telling me Fisk wants to buy this place too?”

Peter sighs again. “It’s the location he wants. And not just us, the two buildings next to us as well. Who knows what he’ll do with it. And the Connors aren’t really in a position to turn down a generous offer at the moment. My concern is the interns though. I hate to see such an opportunity be taken away from them. Not to mention all of their hard work.”

You didn’t mention yourself. You’ll be out of work if Fisk gets his way. Yet, you’re still concerned for everyone else first. Most people don’t share that trait, Peter.

“Don’t worry about me, MJ,” he says as if reading my mind. “Fisk got in a lot of trouble over the weekend. I trust the system.”

Well, that makes one of us.

I hold my camera up and scan around the area to take some shots. I only have to zoom in slightly to make out the scenes before me. Conversations, personalities, and intentions. It’s amazing what you can see with the right view.

“Personal,” I say out loud. “I bet the shots you take feel more intimate from here.”

Peter leans against the railing and looks down at the streets. “They do. That’s what I like about it. This city moves so fast, but a photo can make time stand still. And that’s when you see what you couldn’t see before.”

I zip my camera back in its bag and move to stand next to him. “The best photos tell the best stories. Guess we have that in common. We like mysteries. Makes sense that’s how you ended up in a lab. In order to discover the secrets of biochemistry, you have to start with the mystery of it.”

“You’re a mystery yourself,” he says, standing up straight. “Always have been. I guess that’s why I find you so interesting.” He moves closer to me, and I don’t mind. “I like to solve mysteries.”

I don’t know what’s happening. Everything around us seems to fade back. A breeze goes pass my face and it’s quiet. We’re so close, so quiet. I can feel his breath lingering on mine, my eyes are closed, I’m leaning…

“GUYS, GUYS!”

Damn it, Ned

He runs in from the stairs, “Sorry to interrupt,” he says in between breaths. “Peter, you’re going to want to see this.”

* * *

Back in the lab, Ned brings us over to a small TV in the corner and rapidly turns the volume up. It looks to be a town hall meeting with a lot of commotion. Microphones and cameras all surrounding one large figure, Wilson Fisk.

“That club that got busted over the weekend,” Ned speaks up, “All the blame went to the manager. Him and a few others are arrested but no charges will stick on Fisk.”

It’s a surprise but not a shock. In my line of work, I’ve learned the best criminals are ones that know how to cover themselves while having others take all the risk for them. But Fisk is a bit different, he dares to be in the public eye. Still, there is no proof he’s involved with anything.

Peter turns down the volume and turns to Ned. “I better get down there. This could determine the fate of our business with the lab.” His face is the most serious I’ve seen it. It almost seems like he’s speaking to Ned with a double meaning.

Ned meets his eyes and nods, “I’ll hold things down here. If I find out anything…about the project, I’ll call you.”

Peter nods back and turns to me, his eyes softening. “Uh, MJ.”

“You have business to take care of,” I say with a shrug. “I should get back to work myself.”

Ned and I say our goodbyes and Peter offers to walk me out. Though it’s only one floor down, the elevator ride seems to last longer than it should, because I don’t know what to say. A few different things run through my mind as I glance at him next to me, but I still don’t talk.

When the doors open, we step out and it’s Peter who decides to speak.

“I feel like this was short.”

I simply shrug again. “Guess that means we’ll have to do this again.”

“Yeah!” he practically shouts and instantly turns embarrassed. “I mean, I’d like that,” he says with what he probably thinks is a cooler tone.

I can’t hide my smile. That weird feeling comes back into my stomach, preventing me from speaking. So I just nod.

“So,” he clears his throat and starts to walk off. “Duty calls. Adulting!”

This guy…He’s one of a kind, I gotta give him that. I like it, but I have work to do.

I wait until he turns a corner, and I take off after him.

Soon as I reach the corner, I peek around and see that he’s already across the street. Making sure to keep some distance, I run across the street and barley dodge a car before reaching the sidewalk. Ignoring the driver cursing me out from the window, I head into the alley that Peter just disappeared behind. Damn this guy is fast.

When I get inside the alley, he’s nowhere in sight. I curse under my breath and run through to the other side. There’s still no sight of Peter, but Queens Borough Hall is only a block away. Without a second thought, I keep running.

A couple minutes later, the Hall comes into sight and I stop hard at the end of the block to catch my breath. Across the street, there are way too many people and press to find Peter, but Fisk is unmistakable. He comes out of the hall with lawyers around him and makes his way pass the press into a limousine. I’m too tired to chase it, so I whip out my camera and snap quick shot of the back of the vehicle.

_Click_

Still trying to catch my breath, I hear a swishing sound coming from above me. I look up and a see a blur of a red and blue figure swinging after the limo. He’s too fast for me to take a photo, but it’s fine. I have the only photo I need for now. I look down into the camera screen and adjust the picture to zoom in on a small item at the bottom of the limo.

The license plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we get to MJ snooping. More of that and Spider-Man coming up
> 
> Get at me on Tumblr: @classic-vision
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. I've been waiting to get into this part of the story for some much needed action. Let's go!

It wasn't that difficult to track down Fisk. He moves around quite a bit for business and public affairs, and from my lookout rooftop, I was able to keep an eye on his personal limo. Fisk is hardly ever at his office and is always with public associates. Therefore, the challenge becomes how do I catch him red handed? I’m sure Spider-Man has had the same thought cross his mind, hence why Fisk is still a free man despite the drug scandal at his club.

It took a little over a week to confirm but I found his only pattern. Every morning at exactly 10 am, two men will show up in street clothes separately and enter his office. 15 minutes later they leave together, sometimes with a car waiting on them. That would suggest that they have an assignment given to them by Fisk that he does not want to be in attendance for. In my line of work, I found the criminals who last the longest are the ones who remove themselves from all the risky situations. Today I’m going to find out what the situation is.

Checking the time on my phone, they should be arriving any minute. I’ve been sitting here at a cafe staring at the office building across the street for the past 20 minutes waiting. I feel the vibration in my hand and look at the new message on my screen.

**Peter: Why are chemists great for solving problems? Because they have all the SOLUTIONS**

I smirk and roll my eyes. We text often now, not teenage annoying often, but at least once a day. It always starts off with one of his lame science jokes. He vowed to get me laugh at one of them even if he has to try every day, so he does. He's getting close, but doesn't need to know that. So, I fire off a response. 

**MJ: Dork**

Looking across the street again, I see one of the men standing outside the building. Showtime. 

I put away my phone and hurry across the street, not even sparing him a glance as I walk inside. I don’t have much time before the other man shows up and I have to get into Fisk’s office before they do in order for my plan to work. The secretary gives me a funny look because she no doubt is familiar with Fisk’s schedule and associates. But, play the game long enough, you learn the cheat codes.

“Michelle Jones with Liz Allan,” I announce before she even has a chance to speak. “Wilson is expecting us.”

The right buzz words and the right attitude, sure enough she’s already picking up for phone to dial and delivers the message. While still on the phone, she finally seems to notice that I’m alone. Too late lady, I’m way ahead of you.

“Is Ms. Al-”

“She couldn't make it.” I pretend to scroll on my phone and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fisk is already aware. Now does he plan to keep this meeting or should we take our services elsewhere?”

She quickly apologizes and frantically speaks into the phone. In a matter of seconds, I’m granted entrance to the elevator behind her where I will meet Fisk on his floor. Before the doors shut, I see both of the men are now here, but it’s too late, their meeting is now delayed. I take another look at my phone before I get back to business.

**Peter: Don't trust atoms, ‘they make up everything’!**

* * *

Out of the elevator is a small hallway that leads to a door, no doubt Fisk’s office. I walk over and with each step I measure my resources. Not much to work with, but I may have something. Next to his door is a nook with a large filing shelf. This is the worse part of the job, but the bigger the pay, the bigger the risk.

Without knocking, I open the door and let myself in. There he is, Wilson Fisk. He’s so tall that I can barely tell he’s sitting. He puts on a fake smile and greets me.

“Ms. Jones. Good to see you again. Please have a seat.” 

He doesn't remember me, but he sure does remember Liz. That's all I need for now. I walk over and sit down at the other side of the desk. I keep my posture up straight, but I feel so small near him, like I’m sinking in my seat. His smile is forced and malicious. I can’t afford to waste time.

“You’re a busy man, so I’ll cut to the chase. You’re interested in our services.”

He laughs and leans back. “And you’re interested in working with me.”

“We’re interested in your compensation. Top dollar.”

He’s not smiling anymore. His eyes narrow and I feel a lump in my throat but I keep my eyes locked. For this to work, he needs to believe I’m serious.

“I think that’s negotiable, considering you coming here so urgent this morning.”

“The only urgency is on your end, considering the news reports.” 

He leans forward and folds one hand over his fist. I shift my feet for a second, but keep my body still in my seat. He cracks his knuckles one by one, each of them louder than the last.

“I assume I can go over the terms with Liz?” he asks.

“And the rest of the team will be present,” I state. “One week from now is our availability. We’ll be in touch.”

I stand and extend a hand, not giving him a choice. He stands up, towering over me and shakes my hand. His menacing smile comes back.

“Tell Liz I look forward to seeing her.” He grips my hand tighter. “Very soon.”

I pull my hand away and walk out of the office and shut the door behind me.

Now is my one and only chance. Without a second thought I dip left into the nook and crouch behind the shelf. My heart starts the race, at any moment Fisk could realize I didn’t leave out the door and come looking for me. However, all indications would suggest that he’s still in his office calling the secretary to let those two men come up to see him. Because a punctual schedule is now being rushed, I should be an afterthought.

About 30 seconds go by, and it feels like longer. I hear the elevator open and footsteps in the hall behind me. The steps get louder, closer, and then they stop. I hear Fisk come out and greet them. I’m safe, for now.

“Boss, we have to state our concerns,” one of the men says. He sounds nervous, and I believe I know why. From what I could tell from earlier they were only about half of Fisk’s size. “Ever since the club got busted and you froze our territory, the money stopped coming in. Guys are getting upset and-”

“Your job is not to be concerned. Your job is to do what I say,” Fisk states.

“Y-Yes, sir.”

There’s a pause in the conversation and my anxiety is running wild. I can feel the fear in the men from here as their boss stares them down, displaying his power over them.

“Status of the shipment?” I hear Fisk ask.

“The drop is coming in this Saturday as scheduled boss. We’ll get the guys back to work as soon as you give the orders.”

So they are working for him. And by the sounds of it, they’re his distributors. Interesting.

“And what about the brat?” Fisk asks, this time with malice in his voice.

“No signs of Spider-Man, boss. The spot is secure.”

The spot, meaning the location of their narcotics. Now we’re getting somewhere. Only they’re wrong, I believe Spider-Man knows where their location is. He just needs to wait it out a little longer, and so do I.

“Before the end of the month, Spider-Man will be exposed,” Fisk says, “Then it’ll be easy. When that time comes, you’ll all have your chance to make up for the recent loss of income. Whoever puts a bullet in his head won’t know what to do with all the cash.”

A sharp pain hits my stomach. A bead of sweat streams down my face and suddenly it’s harder to breathe. I’m still safe physically, but it’s his words that bring the fear to me. All this time, Jameson, the job, the money, to kill Spider-Man. I shouldn’t freak out. Many criminals over the years have tried and failed to kill him. But this is different, and I’m involved.

“Of course, boss. But what should I tell the guys in the mean time?”

At the end of his question, I hear chocking and struggling. Fisk is strangling one of them.

“You tell them _I said_ to shut up and do what they’re told,” Fisk bellows.

“Come on, boss. That’s not really nec-”

I hear the other one grunt and crash against the ground. The chocking sound stops and turns into gagging. Both men are now on the floor, beneath Fisk, squirming under his orders.

“Now get back to work.”

Without anytime to recover I hear Fisk slam his office shut and the distributors scrape themselves off the floor and run to the elevator. As soon as it closes, I make my way over to the elevator and make my escape. I’m safe, but the worse has yet to come.

* * *

“WHAT? MJ, what the f...what the h...what the heck!”

It always amuses me how Liz won't use curse words. So instead, she's venting by pacing the floor and rubbing her temples. Since college, I call these her disney kid tantrums.

“Relax. I didn't commit you to anything. But it would be really helpful if you do me this favor.”

She storms out of the room, slamming her apple into a trashcan. I follow her into her kitchen, seeing one of her doubled silver refrigerator doors open, and peek around to see what she’s getting. To my surprise, she shoves the carrots and celery bags aside and pulls out a white foam food container with yellow stains on the side.

“Are those…”

“Fries!” she shouts, pouring them onto a plate and shoving them into the microwave above her. “And I had a burger for lunch. _Double cheese_. You see what you do to me.”

Ah, all my talk about pizza and nachos for the past week have finally worn her down. It’s rare that she gives in.

“How was it?”

She crosses her arms and glares down at me, but still mutters, “Delicious.”

“Is it wrong that I’m kind of proud?”

“Michelle!”

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

Liz exhales and pulls the plate out of the microwave, popping a fry into her mouth. I lean on the counter across from her.

“I know when is shipment is coming in. I believe Spider-Man will be there to bust them. I’ll get the photo; Spidey puts the bad guys away. And because of this meeting, you’ll have names of Fisk’s associates and access to information that will finally put him away. Everybody wins.”

She scoffs and keeps eating. I sigh and lower my voice.

“Listen, you know I’m only doing this job for you.”

Her eyes soften before dropping them back down to her plate. She’s never really approved of the kind of work I do, but she’s never stopped me either. Liz has really been successful, putting away criminals legally, but I have the chance to do something she never could. I can find out the identity of who put her father in prison.

“I never asked you to,” she says in between bites.

“I know. But I never asked you to do a lot of things for me. And you still did.”

She stops eating and looks back at me, but I avoid her eyes. Since high school, college, and even now, she has always looked out for me. Perhaps it’s just her kind nature, but I’ve never felt like our friendship was equal. I will do this job, and I will do it for her.

“I just wish you do something for yourself.”

I look at her puzzled. “What do you mean?”

She shakes her and goes back to eating. I want to address it, but I feel my phone buzz and pull it out.

**Peter: What do you get when you mix sulfur, tungsten, and silver? SWAG**

Oh lord. What do I say to that? I could always go with my traditional _loser_ or _lame_ but this one seems like it took him some effort. A thought comes to my mind and I start to type.

**MJ: I’ll buy you a shake tonight if it’ll make you stop**

I hover my thump over the send button, contemplating.

“What’s so funny?” I hear Liz ask, bringing me back to reality.

“Nothing,” I press send and put my phone away quickly. “So, can I make it up to you? I’ll buy you one of those green vegetable smoothie drinks to wash down all that grease.”

She looks down at her plate for a second, and tosses the rest of the fries in the trash. “It’s a start”

“Good.” I grab her jacket off the chair and hand it to her, leading us out of the kitchen back to her door. “My backup plan was to cheer you up with joke.”

“Since when do you tell jokes?”

“Well all I have are these bad chemistry jokes. Because all the good ones ARGON.”

* * *

I step out of my Lyft ride into the soft breeze of the park. It’s a nice scenery this time of night, accompanied by one Peter Parker waving me over by the shake stand. I shove my hands in my trench pockets and walk over.

It’s been getting a little warmer lately, not much, but enough that Peter’s replaced is flannel shirts with a lighter button-down. Casual, blue, and tight.

“Good idea for milkshakes,” he says. “Glad you asked.”

I shrug my shoulders and lead him over to the stand. “Anything to avoid another lame potassium joke.”

“Come on,” he chuckles. “You were a STEM student just like me. We all enjoy a bad academic pun. You’re telling me, none of those made at least giggle?”

I scoff. “I don’t giggle, Peter. Now enjoy your free shake. Best black and whites in Queens.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he quotes me from the other night.

I bite my lip, because it’s not _that_ cute. So no need to laugh, and definitely not giggle.

After getting us two large shakes, we take a walk in the park. There’s a good amount of people out tonight, enjoying the decent weather. Some are families watching their kids play tag. Some are college students tossing frisbee. And some just a couple of people taking a stroll just like us, only holding hands. I push my free hand deeper in my pocket, shoving the idea out of my head.

“So you and Liz seem pretty close,” Peter says. It makes sense, it was only a matter of time before he started to dig into my life. If only he knew.

“My mentor at NYU.” I take a long drink before deciding just how much I want to tell him. “Turns out we had similar goals and views, so we grew close. Now she’s pretty much the sister I never had.”

“That’s great, MJ! I can tell she means a lot to you.”

She does. I can’t believe I said that. The only other ones I’ve told that to were my parents. I really have gotten comfortable.

“It’s the same with me and Ned,” he continues. “I actually used to worry that we were gonna drift apart after high school. But time only made us tighter. Next thing I knew, we were college roommates and now co-workers. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I mean, what’s life without your best friend?”

Good question, and the feeling is mutual. Which is why I have to finish this job. Spider-Man has handled tough situations before, he can handle this one too. I hope. But it has to be done. It has to. I owe her…

“Speaking of which,” Peter says, bringing me out of my thoughts, “Ned said him and Betty were thinking of getting dinner on Saturday night. I thought it might be fun to join them, together. I mean, they would be together and maybe you would be with me and-”

“I got it, Peter.”

“Right. I’ll stop.” He clears his throat and rubs his head nervously. “What do you think?”

I stir the straw in my milkshake a bit, pretending to hesitate. “I guess that’s okay.”

He laughs, “Ouch. That’s it?”

“I’m kidding.”

Peter pulls out his phone. Buzzing in his hand, he reads the light on the screen. “That’s Ned now. I should get back to the lab.”

I turn around and hail a cab. “Want to split it?”

“No that’s fine. I, uh, need to run off this sugar.”

He’s going to run? He must live close. But I shouldn’t be surprised either way. He’s in great shape.

“Did you enjoy your shake?”

He gives a slight nod, “It was okay.”

This dork…I can’t help it; I bump shoulders with him playfully and he bumps me back. Then he squeezes his empty cup showing me he drank it all.

The cab pulls up and that means the night is over. Time seems to move by a little faster when I’m with Peter.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” I tell him. He grins and nods eagerly while opening the cab door for me. I move to get in but before I do, I hear him speak again.

“Hey, MJ. Did you hear oxygen went on a date with potassium? It went OK.”

I stare at him and bite my lip. I will not laugh. I will NOT. So instead, I bite cheeks, because I refuse to give in. I refuse to laugh at that ridiculous, dorky, not funny at all, pun. But I might be starting to show, because he’s giving me that grin again. That damn adorable ass grin.

“Goodnight, Peter,” I mutter and get inside the cab, shutting the door immediately. I don’t give him another glance as the car takes off. Instead, I take another long drink, feeling the sweetness of the chocolate syrup fill my mouth. Then I send him the last text of the day.

**MJ: LMAO**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan is revealed, but what will she do?
> 
> In case your in need of some more science puns, just google around. Some bad ones out there. Enjoy
> 
> Get at me on Tumblr: @classic-vision
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being longer than planned, but considering the subject matter, I felt MJ had a lot to say.  
> We're in the home stretch

There was a time when I believed in more. I believed in karma; if someone did something bad, bad things would happen to them. I believed in justice; despite its flaws, the system is correct would eventually come through. Most of all, I believed in people; and that they would rather choose right from wrong.

All of those beliefs are long gone. Without consequence, bad things will continue to happen. And with a corrupt system, consequences are biased. I only have one belief now, survival of the fittest. In this society, the only person who can depend on is yourself.

The sound of a truck pulling up brings me out of my thoughts. I stay hidden behind the back of the building and peek around the wall.

You would think with the thousands of crime movies made about us; New York City would cut down on the abandoned warehouses. But sure enough, there’s always one somewhere. And inside is crime activity. This one I’m at now is no exception. An old ugly faded building with graffiti designs overshadowed by the dirty words kids have scribbled over the years. By the looks of it, this building hasn’t been used for production in several years. But it is being used alright. I followed Fisk’s men here.

I can’t see much from this angle, other than the savages tossing fast food wrappers and soda cans on the ground. There’s another guy backing the truck inside the warehouse, most likely containing the narcotics for a transaction tonight. They stay inside, probably making preparations for tonight and to keep watch. I’ll leave for now, there’s nothing necessary for me to do at the moment. Once the transaction goes down tonight, I need to get inside and get some photos. That will prove Fisk is dirty and finally put him behind bars. More importantly, Spider-Man is likely to be on the scene. If it all plays out well, I could walk away with a big payday.

My phone starts ringing. Luckily, I made some distance from the warehouse and answer it.

“Hey,”

_“Don’t ‘hey’ me! I’m still mad at you.”_

I sigh loudly into the receiver just to annoy Liz. “I thought we moved pass that.”

_“You’re not the one that has to sit down with Fisk. And you still haven’t even told me status of your job.”_

She means unmasking Spider-Man. The Fisk situation has gotten so big we haven’t spoken much on the main objective. I cross the street looking back at the warehouse in the distance.

“I’m working on it.”

I hear static in the phone from her sigh. Only hers was heavier, filled with worry and exhaust. _“I just feel like this could get dangerous, more so than usual. Are you at least getting close?”_

There’s a concern in her voice that I’ve heard before. I feel bad, but I am doing this one for her. I tuck my trench coat tighter to my body as I stroll down the sidewalk, passing a group of three kids. They each have different color Spider-Man merchandise, one with a white spider, one with red, one with black. For a moment, I wonder how they would react once Spider-Man is exposed.

I actually do have suspicions about his identity, but nothing concrete. There’s no point in getting Liz’s hopes up for now. And no point in worrying myself.

“You’ll be the first to know.” I state, deciding it was time to change the topic. “So, will you stop being mad if bring in coffee and donuts for your staff?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, no more frustrated breathing. I knew she wouldn’t be expecting that. I normally avoid her staff, associates, and other friends she has. These corporate cliché gestures irritating, but whatever gets her off my back.

 _“I’m listening,”_ she says with the most rigid tone. I squeeze my phone and hold my tongue. I don’t want to argue with her. I’ve got too much going on right now that I’m not in the mood. So, I simply stomp down the street, bumping into someone on the sidewalk, not bothering to look back as he complains. Eventually Liz gets the message and continues, _“You will greet each of them by name with a smile.”_

Oh, good Lord. “We both know that will just scare them.”

_“I’m willing to take that risk.”_

“Fine!”

_“Good girl! Now then, I did some digging into Connor’s lab you asked me about.”_

About time. I almost forgot why I was expecting this call. I exhale, trying to calm myself, and stop to lean over a bench in the middle of the sidewalk. It causes a little disruption in the traffic of people, but I don’t care, let them walk around me. Good thing about New York City, no one bothers to question what you’re doing or what you’re talking about. They’ve all got too much of their own shit going on to care about yours.

“What did you find out?”

_“Looks like the husband was hospitalized after an experiment gone wrong. The wife was left the business but decided to dedicate time for her husband and left the lab with trusted employees.”_

“Sounds like Peter and Ned.”

_“Legally, the lab is still in the name of the Connors; the employees just keep it running in the meantime. I think that says a lot about Peter, to be trusted with such high matters.”_

It definitely says something, rather, it suggests something.

“Thanks,” I say quickly and hang up the phone. It’s rude, and I’m sure to get scolded for it later, but I don’t care. I’ve got a headache and can’t focus on all of the crap going on today. The sound of change rattling in a cup is surprisingly the distraction I needed.

Looking down, I see a homeless man sitting in the corner being passed person by person. He looks to be middle aged, face unshaved, hair greasy, and his eyes look beyond tired. There’s a ripped blanket wrapped around his faded clothes and yet, people act like they don’t see him. Still, he shakes his cup to rattle the few coins that were given to him. It’s amazing what people will spend on in this city. But at this moment, no one seems to have any money to spare.

I pull out 40 dollars and put it in his cup. He gives the brightest smile I’ve seen all day and thanks me. I don’t respond, I just walk on. I have no idea what he will do with that money, but it’s none of my business. The money is his now, what he does with it his own him.

We can only help ourselves. No one else will.

* * *

Most of my weekend nights are spent working. These are the big crime nights, not sure why, but I don’t mind, I wouldn’t be doing anything else anyway. But some nights are a little different. Every once and awhile, Liz will drag me out to a party with her and her friends. At some point, I’m usually able to sneak off and get back to work. Tonight, is a similar situation to that. Only it involves Peter.

The outside of the restaurant is nice but basic, inside it’s a good atmosphere. Plenty of people and a wide layout. Light music in the background, slightly dimmed lighting, and there’s an even number of booths from tables. The booths are red leather and the tables are brown wood. It’s a nicer casual restaurant with majority of the people looking to be in our age group and coupled up. The kind of place that’s a good spot for a date, but it’s not implied.

I see Peter across the room who instantly smiles and stands to wave me over. Ned and Betty are already here, they follow Peter’s wave and offer their own. It’s a situation I’m really unfamiliar with so I just keep my hands in my trench pockets and walk over. With each step, I take in Peter’s appearance. His hair is neatly parted to one side. He’s wearing dark blue jeans under a black polo shirt matching his black shoes in place of his normal beat up sneakers. Still casual, but more dressed up than normal.

The second I get to the table, Betty’s already gripping me in a hug before I can greet them. Ned immediately follows up with his own hug, saying he’s glad I could come. Next is Peter, who hesitates, so do I. He’s standing next to me and he’s seems to be contemplating whether or not he should hug me but I’m sure I don’t exactly look inviting. We probably should, the rest of us did, we’ve hung out a few times now, and he’s wearing a tight shirt. So, what’s holding me back?

Before things can get awkward, he pulls out my chair and gestures for me to sit.

I thank him and comply, noting that it’s the first time anyone has ever done that for me. I didn’t even know guys still that at all.

“I’m so glad we could this!” Betty says. “MJ, the guys were just telling me about the lab and that they’re working on genetic mutation.”  She’s wearing extensions and eye shadow, neither were on the last time I saw her. She must really like her some Ned Leeds.

“That’s right,” Ned tilts his hat and grins. It’s one of those retro rancher hats that he most likely got from his dad. It’s slightly worn, but clean. Definitely unusual, but I gotta give him points for originality. Plus, it might be working considering Betty has a dreamy look on her face while talks. “If this works, it will redefine human limitations.”

“That’s amazing, Ned!” she cheers. “At the rate you guys are going you’ll make your own superhero.”

“Whoa!” Peter yells, making us all jump. He stutters for a second and points to the man next to us and gives a nervous laugh. “Here comes are waiter! I sure am hungry.”

The outburst is suspicious, but it gets me to focus. All my uneasiness I previously felt is on hold for now and I’m back to work.

Ned and betty order their drinks first followed by me.

“Water,” I say quickly while thinking of how I’m going to interrogate Peter as soon as he orders, but once again he throws me off.

“Fruit punch”

And suddenly I can’t think. It’s a simple order, too simple. Even the waiter looks confused. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just…different.

“Um,” Ned clears his throat and puts arm around Peter. “I think you mean BEER. Right dude?”

“I like fruit punch,” Peter shrugs Ned’s arm off him.

“Sounds delicious,” I blurt out, making everyone stare at me. Peter’s got that grin again and Betty’s got a whole different type of smirk.

“You two been hanging out a lot.” she says suggestively. I know what she’s getting at. But it would be difficult to lie about, because Peter and have been spending a good amount of time either with each other or texting each other. “I didn’t even know you were close in high school.”

“Actually, MJ was a little stand offish back then,” Peter replies.

“I thought you hated us,” Ned chuckles.

I keep my face stern, staring him down. His laugh dies instantly, but I let him off the hook. “Of course not. I only hated your hats.”

Now Peter’s laughing, I mean really laughing. It’s a dorky offbeat awkward laugh, that I caused. That feeling in my stomach stretches up to my chest. I could get used to hearing this laugh. It almost makes me want to tell another joke, but for some reason I decide to fade out of the conversation and focus on our drinks that just arrived. I stir the ice around a couple times with my straw and start drinking my tasteless water, while eyeing the fruit punch across from me.

I chime in every now and then but for the most part, I let the rest of them talk. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I’m surprised to be here. Looking around at the restaurant, I can tell who’s on a first date. To our right is a couple sitting across from each other, barley talking but keeping smiles plastered on their faces.

Typical

To our left is what I call the _Tinder couple._ Two people sitting on the same side of the booth, hands all over each other. The girl is trying, and failing, to be discrete. The guy doesn’t care who’s watching as he starts to kiss her neck. The only thing keeping them from hitting a bedroom right now is the waiter is still wrapping up their food.

Typical

Behind Peter, is a more season couple. They’re sitting across from each other, food finished earlier due to lack of conversation. Both have their phones out, trying to pass the time until the bill arrives.

Typical

It’s all so predictable and pointless. So why bother? My least favorite books are the ones where I can predict the ending. Which is why I avoid romance novels at all cost. Cliche dating is why the divorce rate is so high. You can write a script to any of these couples. But one thing I can’t figure out tonight is why a guy would order fruit punch and pour ketchup on his grilled chicken, while on a date. And that’s exactly what Peter Parker here had done. It’s immature, it’s abnormal, it’s…it looks good.

“I’m just saying,” Ned says while cutting another piece of his steak. “All of the biggest games are on PlayStation and X-box. You need to update.”

Peter drops his fork, “That’s my whole point! Nintendo systems are timeless. All they produce are classics.”

I feel a nudge on my arm. Betty playfully rolls her eyes to me about the boy’s video game topic. I look back over and see Peter shaking is head while Ned lists off his fingers.

“You’re missing out on shooters, sports, fighting-”

“Nintendo has the best adventure games,” I blurt out.

It’s the second time they’ve all looked confused. But I wasn’t expecting this topic. And I’m certain they weren’t expecting me to be a fan. “They’re good for mysteries. I like that.”

Peter grins at me and my stomach shifts again. “Yeah, I like a good mystery.”

I don’t know what’s happening, none of this is predictable. Since when does Peter make me nervous, it’s usually the other way around. I take another drink from my water and my eyes go back to the red glass in front of me. Peter must have noticed because he scoots it forward.

“Good stuff,” he offers.

I still don’t know what’s happening, but I’m leaning forward and my lips go to the straw. I feel the tropical juice fill my tongue. Leaning back, I meet his eyes.

“Sweet.”

He tugs on his collar and shifts in his chair. Now he looks more familiar, twitchy and goofy, I like it. I keep my eyes on him and he looks for a distraction.

“How’s your salmon?” he asks.

On instinct, I pick up my fork and smear more lemon cream on the fish. I pick up a piece of salmon with my fork and offer it forward.

Peter gulps quietly and leans forward, eating the fish off my fork. He leans back and wipes his forehead, meeting my eyes again.

“Tasty.”

This time I feel a nudge on my leg, and Betty instantly pushes her salad away and stands up.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the lady’s room.” She picks up her purse and gives me a polite smile. I sigh, taking the damn signal to stand up to go with her.

I move to keep up with her. I don’t know why she’s walking so fast. Soon as we get inside the restroom, she tosses her purse on the counter and checks her hair in the mirror.

“Guess you didn’t need to actually pee…”

“Of course not,” she grasps my shoulders. “I didn’t know you and Peter were getting so _close_.”

I shrug her hands off. “What are you talking about?”

“MJ, you two were giving each other bedroom eyes like crazy! Liz totally undersold this.”

“Shut up. We’re not…wait. Does Liz know we’re here?”

Betty quiets down, looking at me confused. “Yeah. We were talking about it a couple days ago. I figured you would’ve brought it up to her by now.”

But I didn’t. And Liz didn’t mention to me that she knew either. We probably didn’t tell each other for the same reason. This isn’t good, but I don’t have time to think about it now.

“Whatever. I gotta go.”

Despite attempts, I leave the restroom and head back to the table. Peter and Ned seem to be in the middle of a serious conversation that abruptly stops soon as they see Betty and I again.

“Um, sorry about this,” Peter hesitates, “Something came up at the lab and we need to go.”

“What?” Betty all but yells. “It’s Saturday night! We should all go get drinks.”

Peter rubs the back of neck and apologizes again. “Sorry, bu-”

“Well the lab doesn’t need two of us right now.” Ned seems to plead to Peter with his eyes and Peter gives in.

“Yeah. You all enjoy yourselves. I’ll catch you some other time.”

Something’s going on, but what? Peter mentioned unusual hours but with him and Ned gone it would suggest they made sure the lab is unoccupied for tonight. Perhaps related, perhaps not, but I have my own job to focus on.

“I should get going too,” I say. “I’ll see you all later.”

Without another word, I walk out of the dining room. I’m just about to exit when I feel a tug on my arm. Peter’s standing before me and it’s just us in the hallway.

“I really am sorry about this, MJ. Sometimes I hate my job. I hate ditching pe-”

“It’s fine,” I say. I don’t really have time to stay. I need to get going, but my feet don’t move.

“Really?” he asks. “It’s just you seemed kind of quiet earlier.”

“It’s nothing,” but it really is.

So here we are, just standing here. Neither of us seem to know what to say, and we’re both supposed to be needing to leave.

Against my better judgement, I speak more. “I enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too, MJ. I’ll see you soon?”

I nod, wishing I could do more. And before I know it, he pulls me in close, but I don’t resist. It’s not aggressive, it’s not friendly, it’s this unusual embrace that I’m not familiar with. His face comes near mine, but moves right pass it. Holding me tighter, it’s the warmest hug I’ve ever felt. Not better than my parents or Liz, it’s just a different feeling between Peter and I. Closing my arms around him, I sink into his body and our frames fit perfectly together, almost by design. So I stay in this embrace.

I stay, longer than I should.

* * *

You can always count criminals being late. It’s why I had to time to get over to the warehouse and hide behind the building until everyone showed up. The idiots scold each other for a minute as if they fort they should draw attention to themselves, making my job easier. While they’re distracted, I lean pass the wall and get a quick shot with my camera.

_Click_

I lean back to cover myself and look above. There’s no one swinging along the rooftops, no sight of blue and red spandex. It would suggest that he’s not coming, but I won’t give up.

Looking back, all of the men have gone inside. I zip up my camera move to entrance. Fisk must be cheap with his payroll, because these guys are amateurs. They’re only securing the inside, not the out. So after the last man enters the building, I sneak in right after him slide over to the corner, concealing myself behind a pile of boxes.

Now my adrenaline is kicking up, I hate this part of the job. To stay focused, I hold my breath and take in my surroundings. It’s two stories tall, but no one seems to be on the second level. The truck from earlier is now open from the back and the men have gathered around gawking at whatever is inside. Looking around, there’s a lot of boxes left over from shipments of the warehouse’s previous company, I can use these to hide. I need to a photo of the inside of that truck.

“Alright, bums.” One of them announces. I recognize him to be the distributor from Fisk’s office the other day. “Kingpin gave the orders. Get your cut and head out. Rest of the product stays put until boss says otherwise.”

Kingpin? Based on the circumstances, that would suggest its Fisk’s street name. Makes sense, the smart criminals don’t let their real name into the streets.

“Remember,” he continues. “Report back here next week. Boss is coming down to evaluate.”

I quietly let out a breath. All of the thugs start muttering curse words and complaints, but they complain with the order they were given. Fisk really has these guys shook.

I glance the second level again…nothing. Where is he?

No matter, I won’t let this night go to waste. I wait just until some of the group exits and only a few remain. Maybe they’re not complete idiots after all, they’re sticking around for quality insurance. It’s fine, I’ve been in this situation before.

I post my back against the wall and step by step I creep along it. When I reach the corner, I peek around it and immediately jerk back and hold my breath. One of the thugs pass right by me. Without a second to waste, I move behind a table and crouch down to hide myself.

The coast seems to be clear and quietly let out the breath I was holding in. I scan the room, some of the thugs are have stopped in front of the truck complaining about Fisk. They’re in front of my destination but I can still take advantage of the moment to move closer. After a double-checking scene, I dive forward and roll behind the stack of boxes. Still crouched, I lean on my toes and listen for anyone in coming. Still safe.

I creep closer to the edge of my barrier and peek over to see the thugs still in front of the truck. I need to distract them somehow. I hate these situations, but I don’t have a choice. Looking around, I see a stack of paper oozing out of a box near me and pick up a sheet and crumble it into a ball. My target is easy, but that’s not what I’m worried about. There’s a pile of boxes ahead of them with one hanging on the edge of the others. If I knock that down it will shift the attention and get the photos I need. But if I’m not quick, then I’m screwed.

Just relax. Relax.

In one swift motion, I toss the paper ball high and it connects with the box dropping it to the ground.

“What the,” one of the thugs says and motions for the others to follow.

They walk over and shift around the pile, muttering something about rats, and I whip out my camera. I tiptoe over and aim inside the truck.

_Click_

Got it. Now I gotta go.

I tiptoe back over the shield of boxes. Right away I hear the footsteps returning and I don’t have time to waste. Still crouched, I moved along the side to the exit.

Not sure how much time has passed, but it feels like an eternity. Still, I made it out safe, but I’m not happy. I push back the hair on my forehead and wipe away the sweat. Where the hell is he?

Safe from the warehouse, I start walking down the street feeling disappointed and oddly sad. I don’t call for a ride, I don’t even bother to hail a cab. Because in the end, the only person you can depend on is yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough one to write because of the deep outlook I felt MJ would have on everything. I wanna know what you all think though. Drop a comment!
> 
> Get at me on Tumblr: @classic-vision


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been waiting to get to this chapter for some time, and it's a big one. Only one more left and we're off to Far From Home.
> 
> Showtime

What’s the point?

That’s what I’ve been asking myself for awhile now. In my line of work, you see people at their worst. People will do anything for money or power. It’s why our society is full of lies. The greed for power is endless. So, what’s the point of working when no matter what you’re always making someone else more money than you, giving them power over you.

I continue to pace the streets of Queens, analyzing people as I often do, as my mind wonders. If I ever do bust Spider-Man, then Fisk goes after him. I work for Jameson, but he works for Fisk. Therefore, I’m giving Fisk more power to run Queens. More venues will open and more drugs on the street. It’s all bad, but should I care? There will always be another Fisk, a privileged man protected by a biased system. There will always be more drugs destroying humankind. So, What’s the point?

With one hand in my pocket, I lean against the wall of a gas station and take my phone away from my ear after getting Liz’s voicemail. She’s supposed to be meeting with Fisk today. I have proof of his drug smuggling and together with the contacts Liz gets today, he can be arrested. But should I care if Spider-Man doesn’t? I thought I had him figured out, but I guess I don’t know anything. He’s not who I thought he could be.

Before I put my phone away, I see I have a text on the screen.

**Peter: Can we talk?**

No dorky science joke today. That’s weird. It suggests that there’s a problem. I lean off the wall and start to pace again while typing.

**MJ: ???**

**Peter: Just something that needs to be said in person**

I sigh, because I’m hiding something from him. Maybe he’s hiding something too. But I’ve seen this movie before, an old high school crush comes back around at the perfect time. Except this ain’t a movie, this is reality. In reality, things don’t just work out. So, what’s the point?

**MJ: There’s nothing to talk about**

It hurts as I send the message, but it needed to be done. I look up and see Fisk’s warehouse come into view and sigh. A part of me wonders if he’ll be there today. If I’ll see Spider-Man live up to his reputation and show when needed, not just when convenient.

My phone rings and I see Liz’s name pops up on the screen, returning my call.

“Hey,” I answer.

_“I’m on my way to the meeting. Can’t really talk.”_

She sounds irritated. Poor girl, I did book her in a meeting with Fisk, which is enough to give anyone a stress case. Still, I don’t really feel like hearing about it right now.

“Just wanted to see if you’re good with the plan…wait. Did you say you’re on your way to the meeting? It’s supposed to be at your office.

I hear her typing on her laptop and I’m growing agitated by the second. _“He wanted to meet at one of his older properties. It’s vacant now but he plans to use it as an extra business office.”_

Vacant property…shit

“Liz, wait. Don’t go there.”

“ _I’m walking in now, MJ. Bye_ ”

The line goes dead. Panic starts to fill my mind, because this can only end badly. I see the warehouse ahead of me, a long way ahead of me. Fisk isn’t planning to do business at his drug hideout, he knows something. Liz is in danger.

I take off and run. I run as fast as I can, hoping that it’s not too late.

* * *

She could die, or be tortured. I don’t know what Fisk is planning, but it most likely involves me. I can’t afford to think about it, I just have to get Liz out of this warehouse.

I peek around from the back wall as I did last time. For the most part it’s the same scenery, only now they’ve got guards. Fisk must be expecting company. No matter, it’s only two of them, one on each side of the door. I need to distract them so I can get inside the warehouse. Looking them up and down, I can see these aren’t good guards. Their shifting their feet keeping looking around. They’re nervous, but is it really because of me, or something else? I have to give them a little panic.

Next to me, I pick up a small rock and toss it on the other side of the truck. They rush over to it in haste.

I’m in.

Inside the warehouse, it’s just like last time, only more thugs on the ground floor. Up high there are rooms. Liz has got to be in one of those. I need to get up there.

I quickly conceal myself behind some boxes and analyze my surrounding. Good news is, the stairs are in the corner away from sight. Bad new is, the stairs are still on the other side of the floor. There is a man approaching me. Quietly, I shift to the other side of the boxes, passing him without notice. I get on my toes and creep along the wall diving behind a table. Coast seems to be clear, there’s just one more person to get pass. He’s walking by the stairs but seems to be going in the other direction. Perfect, I just need to creep behind him and make my way up. As he walks, I step behind him.

Step…step…step… _smush_

Underneath my foot is a paper ball. Because of the noise, he’s turning to me and I don’t have time to think. I leap forward and latch on his back. I cover his mouth with my hand and squeeze my arm around his head as tight as I can until he drops unconscious from the sleep hold.

I’m safe, but only for a moment. My heart rate is jacked and I’ve got a suspicious body laying next to me. I have to grab Liz and get out of here now.

I rush up the steps on my toes to avoid noise. Luckily there aren’t any guards up here. It’s actually much quieter up here. I don’t have to look far. Directly across from me, sitting in the opposite direction in what looks to be an office, is a girl with long dark hair sitting alone at a table.

“Liz,” I whisper when I get inside the office.

She turns to me and leaps out of her chair. “MJ! Tell me you’re not alone.”

“No time for that. We have to-”

“Hands up!”

My heartbeat picks up again. It wasn’t smart to come here without a plan, but I panicked. Now here we are both with our hands on our heads with a couple guns pointing at us.

“Drop your weapons,”

For a moment, I allowed myself to actually believe we’re safe. But that’s not how things go in reality. Things go from bad to worse. And worse is Wilson Fisk walking into the office, towering over the two henchmen.

“Don’t you know how to treat ladies?” he taunts, before waving his hand at them. “Leave us. And ladies, please relax.”

They comply and leave the office. Leaving just Liz and I with Wilson Fisk. He’s so wide, I can’t even see the doorway behind him. We’re trapped.

“Here’s something you may or may not know, Ms. Allan.” He begins. His voice is calm, but false. There’s I can feel a storm building in each syllable he utters. He adjusts the cuffs underneath the sleeves of his suit and cracks his knuckles suggesting he’s about to use them. “The streets have their own network. Far more connected than your little university can provide. And word on the street is, there’s a little problem lurking around threatening our business.

I feel a thump in my chest. My heart flutters to beat of his approaching steps. With one hand, Fisk picks up the table in between us and moves the entire thing aside, clearing the space. Liz and I back against the wall. There’s no wear we can run.

“It ain’t the cops, he continues forward. “Those morons are always lost. So naturally everyone assumed it was Spider-Man. But I had a hunch something else was going on, so I kept my eyes open. Because you know, the only thing I hate more than a spider…” And before I can blink, he strikes the wall right next to face. “…is a rat.”

Rumblings. I can actually hear the rumblings of the wall against my right ear. I can smell the cheap paint coming of the broken pieces. He punched straight through. And this is the part where I can’t lie. I’ve had some close calls before, but never to this extent. This situation is new, I’ve been caught. Death is staring me right in the face.

“She’s not whoever you think she is,” Liz cries. “She’s just one of my employees. Fisk you have to let us g-”

“I’m sure your father is a pleasant man, Ms. Allan,” he cuts her off. White dust falls on my right shoulder as he removes his fist from the hole in the wall. “But I don’t plan on being his bunk mate. Besides, I’m not a criminal like him.”

There’s a new feeling inside me now, boiling. The fear I previously had is forgotten and replaced with rage.

“Don’t talk to her like that, asshole!” I yell. “She’ll put you behind bars where you belo-”

Before I can finish, a hand goes to my throat and slams me high against the wall. I scream in pain but Fisk just squeezes tighter.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking too?” he squeezes mores. “I’m the one who keeps this city running. I own it! You all need me!”

“Let go of her!” Liz launches at him, trying to pull away his arm from me. But he just uses his free hand and slams against the wall.

I kick my dangling legs in the air, trying to make some kind of blow. More screams come from Liz and Fisk shouts right at her.

“Now, you work for me! Consider your little snake of a friend’s life as payment. Until then, she stays with me.”

That’s his plan. Force Liz to protect him legally while using my life as leverage. How did all go wrong so fast? How did he find out about me? I can’t think straight. I can’t think at all. I’m losing more oxygen by the second. His grip is deadly tight.

“Hey, boss…”

“WHAT” he shouts at the voice behind him, keeping his eyes on me. The bellow of his voice sends a threat to his henchman’s ears as he hesitates on his response.

“S-Sorry, sir. But I just wanted to let you know that the buyers are here.”

Fisk loosens his grip and I let out a strained breath. “The meeting is supposed to be in an hour.”

“That’s what I told them, mister Kingpin sir. There must have been a misunderstanding…”

He lets us go and fall to the ground, exhausted. Liz moves to check on me while I’m trying to control my breathing, but all I can focus on is the henchman now being strangled by both of Fisk’s hands.

“I don’t allow misunderstandings in my organization.”

There’s too much pain on neck. I try to squeal for the man’s life that’s being drained from him by the second.

“You’re killing him!” Liz cries.

“QUIET,” Fisk releases the man and he flops to the ground, gagging for fresh air. Above him, Fisk takes on a new tone. “Prepare for the transaction. Tell them I’ll be right down.”

The fallen henchman squirms his way to his feet. His hand stays massaging the pain on neck even as he bumps into the door while scrambling out, muttering, “Yes sir.”

Fisk marches back over to us. Liz throws herself in front of me and I don’t have the strength to stop her. Instead of striking, Fisk instead pulls something out of her pocket and shoves her aside. Next, he digs into my pocket, and I’m unable to resist. He finds what he’s looking for, our phones, and tucks them away in his suit. It’s disgusting how turns so nonchalant and straightens his tie as if nothing happened. He’s done this before, to more people.

“As I said, ladies. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, now. I’m a true businessman. I always take care of business matters before personal matters. So, the last thing any of us want is for to make a sound. Not a _peep_.”

With that warning, he exits the office, quietly shutting the door behind him. Now we’re trapped up here with no exit in sight and no phones for help.

* * *

Liz helps me to my feet and move to the table to gain my balance. The pain begins to slowly subside and breathing slows. Liz looks like she’s about to break down. She paces the floor anxiously, searching for answers.

“I told you not to come here,” I cough out.

She immediately stops her pacing and stares at me dumbfounded and insulted.

“Are you serious? This is _your_ fault. You set all of this up.”

“You weren’t supposed to go to a remote location. I had a plan.”

“A plan? Are you hearing yourself? This is not normal. None of this should have ever happened.”

“Because you didn’t listen. None of this would have happen if you had just listened to me.”

“Damn it, MJ. I’m so sick of your bullshit!”

She smacks the table and I take a step back.

I’m shocked, stunned. Liz doesn’t yell, and she never curses. This situation is dire, but there’s more to it than that. There’s a pain in her eyes. A mix of anger, sadness, and disappointment. This has more to due with just today, this has been building up for a long time. So, I wait. For a minute, the only sound between us are our exhausted exhales.

“Look at yourself,” she says. “Look at this room. You chose this life, and you didn’t need to. You had so much potential.”

“Liz, I-”

“NO. This is the part where you zip it!”

I shut up. She’s lectured me at times over the years, but this is different. Everything I thought she had been feeling, everything she’s been holding back, it’s all coming out now.

“I wasn’t a coincidence that you were assigned to me when you were a freshman. I saw your name on the list and I requested you. You were a quiet rude loaner. But you were also smart, honest, and proactive. You cared about people.”

I’ve always wondered if she had something to do with that. It was very coincidental, but we weren’t really friends in high school. I figured she would have no interest in working with me so I didn’t really question it. The truth is reveled, but I still don’t understand.

“You were everything I hoped for in college. A best friend who had the guts to fight for what she believed in. A natural born leader who made change. I remember when you preached to the dean, on camera, until he had the school recognize International Women’s Month. I stood right next to you when you went dorm to dorm gathering hundreds of students to march off campus into the streets for Black Lives Matter. Every single year, you led the university in volunteer hours for shelters and clinics. And I was so proud of you.”

Tears start to fill her eyes. It’s as if she doesn’t recognize me. I can’t blame her, the person she’s describing sounds great. But that was a long time ago.

Liz regains her composure and stands to her full hate, shaking her head. “And now you’re this cynical, negative person. You distance yourself from people and claim it’s because of them. You put away criminals and claim it’s for money. No more goals for yourself, or for anyone else. You’re so damn pessimistic. What happened to that ambitious girl I knew in school?”

She’s looking for something complex and profound. A detailed explanation of why I changed. A significant moment that defines me post college. Well, I don’t have any of that. The truth is, my answer is simple.

“I graduated. Went out into the world. Saw what it really was.” I try to speak as if I don’t care, but my body tells me different. I’m getting choked up just talking to her about it. Images flash in my mind of things I’ve seen. The great society I was so eager to help was full poverty, bigotry, greed, and more. So much more than I ever thought. “No one person can fix this shit.”

A wet stream runs down my cheek and my vision gets a little blurry. I wipe away the water from my eyes, sniffling. It had been a long time since I stopped volunteering, marching, helping. It all just started to seem so pointless. And I hate that I feel that way.

“Listen to me,” I look up at Liz. Her eyes are sharper, more determined. She’s a tall girl, but at this moment she looks taller than Fisk. I’ve seen this look before. This isn’t just my best friend, my old mentor, or captain. She’s my role model.

“The world was here before you and the world will be here after you. Every single time I take a case, the same thoughts cross my mind. The crimes anger me, the system irritates me, and that fact that the criminal might get away with it scares me. But I don’t give up. The system doesn’t define me, my dad doesn’t define me, _I_ _define_ _me_! I’m a lawyer because I know crime is wrong and I work every single day of my life to make this shitty world a better place. The only reason it still isn’t better is because people give up.”

Don’t give up. A cliché speech, but it feels different.

She wraps her arms around me and squeeze gently. I hug her back, understanding we both need it. She keeps holding me, giving a message.

“You’re not cynical or bitter. You’re just another black girl that got kicked around by the world.” I exhale deeply, feeling the impact of her words as she releases the hug and looks me in the eyes. “We all fight the same battle, Michelle. But I never took you for a quitter.”

Just then, the door flies open and a short wave of red and blue jumps into the middle of the room.

“Hey ladies! Hope I’m not interrupting.”

I can’t believe it, it’s him. Spider-Man. He’s really here to save us.

“Oh, hello ma’am,” he says in a fake lower voice to Liz, “Haven’t seen you in a long time. Maybe after this is over, we can talk? Just wanna clear the air about some things.”

Loud stomping comes from outside the office. Through the doorway I see a large bald head storming toward us.

“Oh, right. Kind of got a situation here. Ladies, I’ll clear a path. Just exit the building as fast as you c-”

Fisk pounces on the ground, barley missing Spider-Man and puts a dent in the middle of the floor. Spider-Man latches himself high on the wall, dodging punch after punch by anger Fisk.

“Damn it, hold still!” Fisk yells, trying to catch Spider-Man in the corner.

“Now!”

I grab Liz’s hand and flee out of the office. We run down hall to the hall toward the stairs. We stop short when two thugs cut off our path and aim their guns at us.

Two whips of spider-webs latch onto the pistols and sticks them to ceiling. Over my head, I see Spider-Man flip over and take out both men with a couple of quick kicks to their heads. Instantly, he springs back over to the other side of us. Fisk marches out of the office, fuming.

“Come on, Willy. How long have we been doing this dance now? How about we change up the ending a bit? I bet you look good in orange.”

_Willy?_

Fisk misses a punch and slams his wide fist in the glass window of the office, shattering it. “Today is the day, bug. You’re dead!”

Without hesitation, he grabs the door and with just two yanks, rips it off the hinges and launches it at us. Liz pulls me down by my arm, but not quick enough. I close my eyes, bracing for impact, but it never comes. I open them to see the door floating in front of my face before being lifted into the air by spider webs and thrown back at Fisk, smacking his head and dropping him to the ground.

“Run!” Spider-Man warns us. “Trust me, that only made him angry.”

I get back on my feet, but I don’t run. My chest is heaving, my body aches, but eyes are locked. Because I see something. Beyond the blue and red spandex, there’s something more. My eyes are limiting me.

I need to see more.

“Ma’am, I know you’re in shock, but this guy’s getting back up. And he’s kind of a big dude. Run!”

I unzip my camera and aim it at the masked man before me. He stares at me almost dumbfounded, but I can see now. I can see everything.

_Click_

Before Spider-Man can say anything to me, Fisk starts to grunt. Right before he gets to his feet, Spider-Man runs to him and drops him back down with a kick.

_Click_

Liz tugs me from behind, pulling me into a run. “MJ, are you crazy! Let’s go!”

_Click_

We rush down the stairs, where it’s chaos. Fisk’s thugs are down here but they don’t seem to be concerned with us. One of them bumps me as he runs pass, yelling for an exit. We make our way through the floor where men are either webbed to the walls or being chased away by something from out front. Seeing our opening, we run for it, escaping the warehouse.

Outside we’re met with flashing cameras hitting our eyes and loud sirens in our ears. News reporters are pulling Liz left and right asking her questions. I knock the microphones out of her face and tell them to back off.

Cops come between us, separating the crowd. I look over to see the truck of drugs being raided by cops and some of the thugs from inside are being handcuffed. A loud clash comes from above. I see glass fragments falling from the top floor to ground in front of us. Then an even louder crash comes to our right as a giant web cocooned Fisk falls through the roof of a police car, setting off the alarm.

Cops swarm around the car to arrest Fisk who squirms for a moment inside the car, only to give up. He’s been defeated, exposed, and soon to be in prison. The press flash more pictures, but not of him, from the figure above. He gives no interview or poses for the camera; he doesn’t ask for pay, or even credit, he just swings away. Rooftop to rooftop, Spider-Man continues to protect Queens.

I’m speechless. With everything that just happened, a new sensation runs through me. Not entirely new, just one I haven’t felt in years. One of hope, or maybe pride. I’m not completely sure, but Liz turns to me with that look in her eyes from earlier. Those same determined eyes that speak as loud as her following words.

“You know, I guess one person can make a difference.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the final chapter. With long overdue [Cover Art: click here](https://classic-vision.tumblr.com/post/186011189479/my-name-is-michelle-jones-im-the-best-reporter)
> 
> I want to say thanks again for reading and supporting this story, especially those of you who have been with me since the beginning.
> 
> Let's go!

The cold is gone. The city has finally warmed up. It’s not hot, just a soothing warmth that fills the air. The kind that most people look forward to all year. It’s why he has his sleeves rolled up, standing at the edge of the rooftop, staring at gathering traffic of cars beneath us. Despite the warmth, I still have my trench coat on. It makes me feel official while on the job, concealed and secure. My own mask.

I wait awhile before I let my presence be known, just to bother him. After another minute, I step forward, making sure to make noise with my boots to draw his attention. He turns to me annoyed.

Jameson looks old. The stress from the past few weeks have aged him more than his whole career. He’s never known what it’s like to lose, but he does now. I hold no sympathy for him, because he still looks at me with that same disgust as he always does.

“You said it’s over,” he grunts. “You got the photo?”

“It is over.” I pull out the large yellow envelope out of the inside of my trench coat and toss it to him. He looks at it perplexed, feeling the lumps of cash on the inside. “I did you one better. Fisk is in prison. Your company is safe from him.”

The Daily Bugle sales are still in decline, but that’s his concern not mine. The whole point of him hiring me to expose Spider-Man was to increase sales enough that he would have to be bought out by Fisk. Instead, I cut the tree off at its roots. No Fisk, no threat.

Jameson looks me up and down and chuckles. “I knew you couldn’t do the job. Wasted my time with a load of crap.”

Normally, that would hit my ego. But this time is different.

“I always complete the job. I know who Spider-Man is, I know where spends his days, I know where he eats. I know him.”

“Then why all the secret shit? Tell me who the hell that punk is!”

“Because I also know who _you_ are Jonah.”

He takes a step back but quickly tries to recover. I can see the sweat forming on his forehead from here. He really isn’t used to losing, and he’s thought about it. He’s been worried if I would find out more. I did. It’s simple, he agrees to not put crime into his news feeds and puts all the attention on Spider-Man, in exchange for a small fee.

“I know about your relationship with Fisk and others. I know what you’ve done over the years for your business.”

He avoids my eyes and grips the envelope tighter out of frustration and fear. But I can still see his face from here. He’s defeated and knows it.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Call my bluff. Many have tired, and they’ve paid the price.”

“What do you want?”

This is the moment I’ve contemplated on for days. I’ve done my homework, looked over the photos, reviewed everything. I know the truth. And my decision is made.

“You’re going to do a job for me now, Jameson. You’re going to be the one to expose Spider-Man for who he truly is.”

* * *

The elevator dings and the doors split open to the 5th floor of the building. I step out into the large open floor to a familiar sight of Liz’s law firm. The tenseness of last night is forgotten easily. Because despite the cubicles and desks, there’s different energy in the atmosphere.  The sun shines bright through all the windows. It seems brighter this morning than it has in months.

I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

“Breakfast in the break room!” I announce to the shock of the employees.

I ignore the stares and walk to the end of the floor with the large bags in my hands. The second I turn the corner I can hear people flying out of their seats to follow me. When I get the break room, I open up my bags and sit down two boxes of donuts and a tall stack paper cups on the table. Before I know it, a woman offers to help set up the boxes of coffee and a man pulls plates and napkins out of the cabinet to finish setting up the table. Instantly I’m greeted with _thanks_ about a hundred times, and I don’t mind.

After another quick exhale, I put on my best smile and brace myself for handshakes and conversation.

* * *

Liz is reading something on her computer when I enter her office. She looks surprised to see me, especially with me carrying a plate with a chocolate glaze donut.

“You kept your word,” she says.

I sit the donut down in front of her and flop down in the seat on the other side of her desk. “Don’t I always?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t so sure. Considering how things ended the other day.”

We were being held captive in Fisk’s warehouse. Faced him, a couple henchman, and a whole lot of chaos. In the end, we were rescued and escaped the warehouse in time to see Fisk and his goons arrested. It was crazy and terrifying, but that’s not what she’s talking about. During all of the commotion, Liz and I had big argument. More so like she vented her frustrations with my actions lately. While tough to hear, it’s why I love her. Friends are supposed to be able to call you out.

“You were right, about everything,” I say. “Thanks for the reality check.”

“Anytime.”

She thanks me for the donut and takes a bite. I don’t mention how glad I am that she doesn’t complain about calories. Plus, something else catches my eye. On her desk, underneath where I sat the plate, is a copy of the Daily Bugle.

“You see the news?” I ask.

She nods before finishing her chews. “I did. What they didn’t report was just how many counts they got Fisk on. For reduced time, a lot of the managers at his venues snitched on him. He’s going away for a long time.”

That’s good. Fisk has been able to get out everything so far, but he’s never faced Liz before. She’s the best lawyer in Queens, maybe even the city. It’s a better place with him and his drug smuggling gone.

Liz puts down the donut leans back in her seat. “I read the part about Spider-Man. You sure this is what you wanna do?”

I sigh. Even with preparation, this is difficult. “I do. I looked into that Dr. Connor story you told me about. Happened the same time we had our last super, weird ass, villain. The lizard.”

She raises an eyebrow, confused to why I bring that up. She’s about to find out. I lean back in my chair and continue.

“Next, our old classmate disappeared from social media not long after the Avengers were last seen together in public. Not to mention resignation from the Daily Bugle resulted in major decline in all of the spidey photos. It all dates back to when he first showed up in Queens. Not long after, Peter got the Avengers internship…and then there’s that infamous night at the dance.”

I stop talking, because I’ve never said this part out loud. It’s almost hard to believe, but the evidence is all there. Liz leans forward on her desk, edging me to continue. To say what she’s already thinking.

“Conclusion, Peter Parker was then, and is now, Spider-Man.

She gets up and goes to the window behind her. She gazes out into the large view of the business district. There’s not a question into my reasoning, or even if I have proof. Perhaps it’s too overwhelming for her, I’m not sure.

She looks up high to the rooftops, as if looking for something, or someone. “Funny, I’m actually not all that surprised. It was all there. The class disappearances, ditching on meetings, D.C, and the dance itself. It was all there.”

I stand up and brace myself for what I’m about to say. I exhale again and speak honestly.

“Liz, sis. You spent your life putting away criminals. I don’t think this one is a criminal.”

“Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if my dad was never caught. If he was still around.”

What do you say to your best friend in these moments? I have no idea, so say nothing. I just listen.

“But I also wonder what would have happened if Spider-Man had never shown up. What would happen to this city? What would’ve happened to us the other day? This city needs heroes.”

_Heroes_

Now I have something I want to say.

“He swings from rooftops and smacks down bad guys. You put them behind bars, protect the innocent from the system, and clean up the corrupt corporations. Liz, you’ve always been my hero.

Her gaze leaves the window, back to me. Her smile returns. It’s a mixture of relief, gratitude, and pride. She knows I meant every word.

Then her eyes narrow. She folds her arms with a relaxed demeanor.

“So, when do we meet him? Officially this time. I want to know exactly the kind of person you spend your time with.”

“You’re okay with this?”

“He makes you happy, MJ. I’m more than okay. I encourage it. Spider-Man’s not the bad guy. I just needed to know.”

Perhaps it’s a sense of closure, or just her good-hearted nature, but there’s not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. As promised, she was the first to know. I wasn’t so sure how she would take the news, or even myself for that matter. But Peter is Spider-Man. That’s just going to be apart of our lives now.

“Maybe I’ll have him visit us at work this week,” I say, and a memory comes to mind. “We’ll go out and get some expensive salad.”

She raises her eyebrow again. “Visit _us_ at work?”

I pull out a sheet of paper from inside my trench coat and hand it to her. Her eyes grow wide and her mouth agape.

“MJ, is this a…this is a job application.”

I shrug. “I figured the last time we worked together we won a national championship. Let’s see if we still got it.”

She moves around to my side of the desk and wraps me in a big hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says.

I grow a grin that would give Peter a run for his money. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her say that. It feels good.

“Does this mean I’m hired?”

She pauses for a moment, and pats me on the back. “Have my secretary schedule you for an interview.”

“Oh, come on. I brought donuts!”

* * *

This is it.

Out of all the encounters I’ve prepared for the past couple of days, this is definitely the toughest. Because it’s the reason for everything. The defying moment that will change my life. It brings an usual mix of nerves and excitement that only seems to show up when Peter is around.

I enter the lab and see him reading his tablet by the window. I step over the spilt gadgets on the floor and walk over to him, clearing my throat.

Peter looks up and gives me a wave, but not a grin. I guess I deserve that considering how rude I was to him before.

“Can I take your coat?” he asks.

“Thanks,” I say and let him peel it off me. Now we’re both exposed, no masks for either of us.

After he puts my trench coat on the rack, he comes back over to the window and wipes his palms on his short sleeved blue button-down. I want to compliment on how good it looks on him, but his attention actually seems to be on my old high school t-shirt.

_“Decathlon Captain._ Nice. _”_

Oddly enough, I feel slight heat build on my face, and I don’t think it’s because of the new weather. I fold my arms around the Mid-Town logo and shrug my shoulders.

“I was feeling nostalgic.”

“And maybe a little dorky?”

“Shut up,” I shove his shoulder slightly and join his laugh.

And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. Everything feels natural with him. But we owe each other some explanations if we’re going to move forward.

“There’s something you should know, MJ…”

“I already do. You’re Spider-Man.”

He goes bugged eyed, but doesn’t deny it. He rubs the back of his head and shifts his feet, unsure of what to say.

“There’s something you should know too,” I continue. “I don’t just work for Liz. I also do some private investigations.”

It’s a lot to take in, so I pause briefly before continuing. As I speak, I’m becoming more aware of how twisted it all sounds. But the only thing I can do is be honest.

“When you resigned from the Bugle, the company struggled. Jameson hired me to expose you for sales. Turns out Fisk was the real problem. Jameson had money on your mask, but Fisk had money on your head. I tried to stop him, but you beat me to it.”

Peter leans back against the window and sighs deeply. “And I thought I had the big secret,” he chuckles. “Funny, after the March Madness party, I started trailing Liz because I saw how interested Fisk was in her business. That’s how I found you both at the warehouse the other day.”

Makes sense. But here I was hoping he already knew my secret too. It would make this a whole lot easier.

Peter runs his hand through his hair. The sun shines through the window behind him. He’s the opposite of what I’ve been seeing the world as. He’s not corrupt, cliché, or ill intentioned. He’s selfless, goofy, and a hero. I don’t want this to end.

“So,” he says. “That’s why you been hanging around me?”

“No!” I shout instantly.

He’s taken aback because of my uncharacteristic outburst. But I want him to know that I see him as more than just Spider-Man.

I walk over to the coat rack and pull some items out of my trench pockets. I come back and hand him a front-page news article.

“The Daily Bugle?”

I figured he wouldn’t have read it. But I think he’ll like it this time, or I hope so.

“ **Spider-Man is the hero we do not deserve, but the hero we need.”** Peter pauses from the headline and looks over to me. I simply nod and he continues. “ **J. Jonah Jameson admits wrongful doubt about Queen’s masked hero. Article written by Betty Brant.”**

He stops reading and scratches his head again. “MJ, what’s going on?”

“I couldn’t go through with it. I’ve been telling myself that there’s no point in heroes because villains will always exist. But really, they only exist because we let them. You have the ability to stop crime and you choose to do it because it’s what’s right. I don’t know if other people had your powers, they would do the same. But you’re not just like anyone else, Peter. You’re different, that’s what makes you a hero. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I just had to be sure…”

I don’t know if that’s the best explanation, but I’m being honest for once. I shift the weight of my legs and look at the ground. So much silence passes that it’s almost painful. I feel bad. I feel…

“No, I’m sorry too,” Peter says. “It’s not like I’ve exactly been honest either. But I still don’t understand. How did you know?”

I hand him a set of photos that I’ve been holding on to. The same photos I took during his battle with Fisk the other day.

“I saw you through the lens,” I confess. “I wasn’t able to see you without your mask, but I didn’t need to. The way you hesitate when your nervous. The shift in your weight when your confidence rises. The gestures you give when you tell jokes. The walk, the run, it’s all you. I can’t really expla-”

“I get it,” he says. And it finally happens. The moment I thought would never come. He gives me his one of kind grin that I love. “The lens always tells the truth.”

After a quick exhale, I rub my arms. My stomach turns and my heart pounds, yet my voice is firm and confident. “I want us to work, Peter. And I promise not to hold back this time. But I warn you, I’m not your typical person to be in a relationship with.”

He laughs and moves closer to me, placing the photos on his desk. “MJ, I’m anything but typical. This is exactly what I want.

That grin, it’s contagious. I don’t hold back my happiness, I let it show.

Peter moves his hands to my waist and leans forward, only to stop short. “Uh, I was going to…I mean, I was thinking we should. Well, we don’t have to. But I do, if you do. I’m jus-”

I roll my eyes, “Peter, hurry up.”

“Right! I’m on it.”

He closes the distance between us and we kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me closer to his body. The feeling in my stomach continues to flip around and my face heats up more. But none of it is pain or uncomfortable. It’s an excitement rushing though my body as I continue to kiss him. A long dormant wave of emotions being released. A feeling I can get used to.

When we finally release each other, his grin is wider than ever. Against everything I stand for, a giggle escapes my mouth, and I’m not mad at it.

“So, would you be interested in your non-typical girlfriend to take you out for pizza?” I ask.

He nods eagerly, “Eddie’s?”

“Of course.”

“I’d love to. Let’s g-”

Suddenly, loud sirens come from outside. Flashing lights fill the streets and the noise gets louder. We look out the window and see a car speeding down the street away from chasing police cars. Peter looks at me apologetically.

“Would you mind if your non-typical boyfriend was a little late?”

Without a hesitant thought, I shake my head and open the window for him.

“Go get em, dork.”

He peels off his shirt to reveal his blue and red spandex. After putting on his mask, he jumps out of the window and swings down by streets, flipping through the air to chase the criminal. More will come, but he will follow.

Wherever there is a villain, there is always a hero. It took me a long time to learn that. As I watch Peter swing through the air, I admire the view of Queens and it’s potential. There’s potential for Peter and I, for the kids on the street, for everyone. I did the impossible and found out who was beneath Spider-Man’s mask. The person beneath the mask, is the same person that works in Liz’s office, and the same person who wears my trench coat. A hero. And maybe, just maybe, we can fix this shitty world one case at a time.

My name is Michelle Jones, the best reporter no one has ever heard of. And there’s your New York City story.

Come back soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished!
> 
> It's funny, I thought I was done writing fan fictions completely. But as I said in the beginning of this story, one night a weird idea just came to my head and I gave it a shot. I wasn't planning to build on it, but I got such positive feedback from you all that kept going, and I'm glad I did. This is my first time writing first person and MJ was a fun challenge, especially in this world. I love Spider-Man and glad you could join me on this journey.
> 
> Now, I wanna hear from you. Feedback is really important to me as I go forward.  
> What did you like about this story? What did you dislike? Favorite character, relationship, moments? All that good stuff. Drop a comment! and Get at me on Tumblr: @[classic-vision](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/classic-vision)


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